Reality Shows That Should Happen and Are We Going To Move? (7/31/18)

OUR WORLD:

“The Men Tell All” episode of “The Bachelorette” was on last night and, I’ll admit, Jordan was an electric factory. He got me laughing a few times and did make me ask The VP “is he in on the joke?” I kinda’ think that he is, which makes it funnier when he’s bragging about how he owns billboards in everyone’s head and should’ve been wearing a work vest to this episode. Bravo, Jordan, bravo (I’m making that aristocratic face rn while nodding and giving a very pompous round of applause.) But then the episode kept going and going and I remembered that I don’t give a shit about “The Bachelorette” this year. IS BECCA GONNA PICK THE LOW-KEY RACIST OR THAT SMILEY DUDE WHO HAS ZERO PERSONALITY?!?! I hate when my guy friends make fun of all of the shitty reality TV that I like, and I hate even more that I’m now one of those guys with this season of “The Bachelorette”. However, there is a silver lining! With the part of my brain normally devoted to this show now FREE, I have dedicated it to thinking of some reality shows that NEED to happen. Here are the first 3 that I’ve come up with:

“Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”

I’m officially all caught up on “Southern Charm” and I’d like to thank all my supporters for sticking by me while I caught up. Took a lot of courage on your part to stand by a “reality fan” who had yet to watch the crown jewel of the south. (Are you crying? I am too!!! WE DID IT!!!) I’m sure there will be spin-offs from this show most likely revolving around Shep or Craig or Naomie or the T-Rav rape trial (yikes…) BUT there is only ONE spin-off of “Southern Charm” that is absolutely necessary: the story of Patricia’s old-man butler Michael. I’d like to call it “Serving Patricia: The Story of Michael Kelcourse”. (Wow, creative Jimmy.)

WARNING: this will not be your typical lite Bravo fare. I want this show on AMC or HBO or some other network that specializes in shaky, handheld camera documentary-style reality shows.

I want one cameraman following Michael Kelcourse (the fact that I spent time googling “Patricia Southern Charm Butler” is not something I’ll tell my grandkids about). I want this one cameraman to, essentially, become Michael’s only real friend in the world; allowing him to open up about all the things that Patricia makes him do that we DON’T see on “Southern Charm”. Patricia has “Michael, there is a body in the freezer outside that I’d like you take care of”-written ALL OVER HER. She’s been married like 19 times, you don’t think ONE of those former husbands “disappeared mysteriously”? GET YOUR DUMB HEAD OUT OF YOUR FAT BUTT! MICHAEL KNOWS WHERE THE BODIES ARE!

Maybe one night after returning to his chambers (does he have “chambers”? does he live in a cage in Patricia’s basement?) Michael pours a glass of bourbon for himself and his new best friend Cameraman Jack. About halfway through their first glass, but not yet talking, Michael lets out a deep exhale and brings his fingers to his tear-filled eyes. “I’ve done bad things, Jack. I’ve done bad things.” Jack would lean forward, pour a little more bourbon in Michael’s glass and say “we all have.” Michael would start gently shaking his head, though, and when he lifted it up we’d see his eyes were full-blown red from crying: “I was just following orders.” That’s when the camera would be set down, but not off, and we’d hear Michael cry and reveal where all of the holes are that he had to dig for Patricia’s ex-husbands.

OR…Is there a dark side to this seemingly permanently-chipper old man butler? I bet there is guys…I REALLY, REALLY BET THERE IS!!! There is no way that you can bring dirty martinis to some stuck up lady with a face doesn’t move all day, every day without retreating to some secret drug dungeon that allows you to put up with a life you can’t believe you’re living. I don’t actually think that Butler Michael is a closet opium addict, but look at the eyes, there’s something…something dark beneath….and, if there’s not, maybe he could teach all of us how to be happy living a life other than the one you dreamt of when you were 19.

michael kelcourse

“Backstage Pass”

I want to know what the backstage scene looks like for old bands that USED to be known for RAGING party scenes before and after shows. Think along the lines of: The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Aerosmith. Listen, I don’t actually know if these bands were known for being fucking party animals, but I just assume that older rock bands all did cool drugs and were skinny alcoholics during their heydays SO JUST GO WITH IT!

They’re probably a bunch of recovering addicts now, but doesn’t being backstage after a show trigger some “man, I’d love a fucking beer right now”-urges for these guys? How do they overcome that? If I’ve had a weekend of hard drinking, I’ll tell myself on Monday that I’m not going to drink for a few days. Then, I’ll go for a run, get home, open the fridge and think to myself “Sweet Baby Jesus a beer sounds AMAZING.” 3 beers later, I’m talking to The VP about how “I deserve these.” And that’s from the rush of running on a treadmill! Give me the rush of having 30 plus thousand people treating me like the coolest cult leader of all-time and I’d be doing keg stands on the hood of a convertible weaving down a congested highway!

Or maybe they’re not able to overcome those urges and the code of being backstage just shields them from having to publicly admit that they’re actually not sober. Like, maybe you have to sign a non-disclosure agreement that says “when you see Keith Richards drain his 6 pack of wine bottles, you are not allowed to text your high school friends that Keith’s new biography ‘Sober & Feeling Great!’ is a book of lies”? And if they’re not drinking or doing drugs or COOL STUFF LIKE THAT, what are these aging bands doing backstage? Are Keith and Mick sitting at opposite ends of a big open room just flicking each other off in between telling their young girlfriends why The Beatles are overrated? WE NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS!

“Overnight Pharmacist”

There are 24-hour pharmacies (right? Googling….yep! There are! Continue!) which means that there are pharmacists who have to work the 11PM to 7AM shift. And you know what that means?!?!?! Guys with panicked looks on their faces asking for “uh, the, uh, ya’ know that pill that…the no baby pill?” and people TWEAKING out on god knows what handing over “scripts” written in crayon that say: “Just whatever he asks for. Yours Truly, Doctor”. If I were a pharmacist asked to work the overnight shift, I would insist on wearing a full suit of armor and having a current Navy Seal Sniper Badass Killerguy as my personal bodyguard.

If you’re looking for a magic combination of elements to create drool-worthy reality television, mixing drugs, threats of violence, and darkness with a “person just trying to do their job” seems like a safe bet to me. As for the production costs, you really wouldn’t have any. All you’d have to do is outfit the CVS in rural Arkansas with higher grade security cameras and install some microphones and BOOM, get out of the way and let the night do nighttime things!

I will throw a bit of caution in here that this show does have the potential to be insanely sad and depressing and “this is making me feel horrible about everything.” How do we get around this? Simple, EDITING. The editor of this show will play a VITAL role in dumping the inevitably heartbreakingly sad moments that must occur in pharmacies overnight. Nobody in the world needs to see the stuff that I don’t even want to write about happening because i know that it does and I know that it would make me cry. So…you know what, let’s just make it easy: let’s just have it be the scenes of people being nervous trying to get Plan B pills or unsuccessfully trying to get other sexual-related drugs. An old guy coming in with a fake script for Viagra is comedy gold. GOLD! In fact, let’s just rename the show “Overnight Pharmacist: Only The Funny Sex Stuff and Not The Sad Other Drug Stuff”. THAT SHOW DEFINITELY DOESN’T SOUND DEPRESSING!

MY WORLD:

The VP and I went to Nashville this past weekend, and it made me think about whether or not I could move again. And if I can’t, what does that say about the rest of my life?

When I went to Los Angeles for grad school and student lo-(nobody wants to hear about your debt) I was VERY single and poor at an age where it was socially acceptable to be unable to afford clothes from somewhere other than Old Navy. When I moved back to Chicago it was for legitimate family and personal reasons and I was still VERY single (The VP is beginning to question all of the “ex-girlfriend” stories…”Was I your first girlfriend?”-VP to me tonight.) But now at the seasoned age of 33, with a WIFE!, stable job that pays some to most of our bills, and on the verge of maybe trying to become a parent (Am I having a seizure?) do I have the courage to move again?

While out with our BEST FRIENDS who moved to Nashville a couple years ago, and some other super awesome friends of ours, I was flattered to have been asked multiple times “so when are you guys moving down here?” My answers ranged from “oh, ha ha, we’ll see” to “when you find me a job where the pay is good and the uniform is a t-shirt and minimal effort.” The real answer is that I may be too scared to bet on being able to restart my life again at 33 when I’m not the only one that matters to me anymore. The idea of tossing our stuff in a truck and driving off to a new southern adventure is tantalizing, I won’t lie. But that means finding a new place to live and a new job and dealing with a new boss and what if I have to work for a mean lady?!?! WHAT IF SHE YELLS AT ME AND CALLS ME FARTFACE?!?!

Lately, thoughts of blinking and living the same life 10 years from now have been consistent and consistently terrifying. When you drive around alone all day, your mind can only stay focused on reality show butlers for so long. Wading into the murky “what just touched my leg?!?!”-waters of figuring out exactly what I want the VP and my future to be is fun and scary and constant. Is settling into the rest of our lives right now, not only safe, but the financially responsible thing to do? We have both have 401k’s! Or is swinging for something bigger and better than slightly above average, sooner rather than later a risk that we won’t be able to even think about in a few years? The clock is ticking! What type of life necessitates shaking it up with a move? Something worse than ours, right? There are no answers to these questions, I know.

Courage is what it comes down to. I mean, planning would be a major part of a potential move too, but it’s courage first and foremost. Instead of waiting to get suddenly brave or find some big, cool blanket that makes me feel secure enough to stay here, I’ve decided to start something VERY cheesy with The VP. Starting tomorrow, we are committing a half hour, each night to “Dream Time”: where we will put our phones down, put some music on and start writing down about things or places or (hopefully not people) we want to see and do. It’s cringeworthy and I’m sure that The VP will not fully appreciate me outing our lameness on an INTERNATIONALLY READ BLOG. While I may not yet have the courage to pull the trigger on a move or toss an immovable anchor where we currently are, I do have the courage to be honest. When will we move? Maybe sometime. Maybe never. I don’t know, but we are going to start dreaming with our eyes open.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

It’s an emo-Jimmy you’re getting today, so I’m going to lean into it and put up a song that reflects how where I’m at. The lyrics are insightful and if you don’t sway in your chair while listening to this then you’re dead.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Putting on a pair of pants that you’re sure are tight because they’re a 33 waist but then you take them off to look at the size tag and they’re a 34. Can someone please invent cookie-flavored diet pills? Tysm.

JIMMY GAMBLES

No lie, I’ve been taking big-time baths lately on baseball because betting baseball, apparently, IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. Football is coming soon and with it will come the return of this section.

(My account currently at $4.71)

K bye.

Worse Jobs Than Yours and Jeans in Critical Condition (6/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

Was I the only one to mutter “fuck this world with my whole heart” this morning? My Monday morning routine has come to include vile self-talk followed by a sad march to make coffee before sitting on the couch and hugging my dog until she gives me the “are you actually about to start crying?” pull-away. (Are we sure that hugging your dog can’t turn back the clock until it’s Sunday morning again? BUT ARE WE SURE?!?!) It’s quite the scene in the Pomerantz household. (Household? You live in an apartment, pal. Quit fibbin!”) Now that I’ve finished shaking my head at nothing in particular, I’m ready to put my energy into finding perspective. This section is somewhat twisted. I’m aware that making myself feel better by thinking about the misfortune of others isn’t exactly the most noble of pursuits. GOOD THING I’M NOT NOBLE! Faithful readers, lets take a trip back to…the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Biker Gang Organizer:

I was in the burgeoning metropolis of Rockford, Illinois for a work event at a big sports bar this Saturday. Unbeknownst to me, Rockford is home to large biker organizations (I don’t know if it’s a gang and if they read this and saw “gang” would they get mad and come find me? Oh who am I kidding? Bikers can’t read!) GANG! In the middle of my event, a biker GANG (still kinda’ scared…) pulled into the parking lot of the bar. This gang consisted of about 60ish large humans wearing leather vests and bandanas while sitting on OBNOXIOUSLY loud motor vehicles. The bar hosting my event was also the second stop on a Biker Bar Crawl. I felt so lucky! (Lucky? Or that feeling when you’re terrified and sad and annoyed at the same time but you act excited because the people around you think bikers are cool? Yeah, the second one.)

Once all of the “I’m tough because I bought a leather vest”-people had parked their bikes, however, a leader emerged. A fleshy fellow walked to the middle of the lot, did that super loud whistle thing where you put fingers in your mouth, and yelled to the crew “WHAT DOES SINGLE-FILE MEAN?!” I confidently raised my hand, but I guess I didn’t count. (Fucking bullshit.) If we’re being honest, he didn’t seem to genuinely care if people did know because he continued with his loathsome rant pretty quickly, “IT MEANS SINGLE FUCKING FILE!” Ohhhhhhhhh! But I thought, it meant…double….file. The gang looked to each other with knowing nods, shared some chuckles and said things like “I’m glad that Larry is so willing to share what he knows with the rest of us!” Seeing education live is inspiring.

But then I watched Screamy Larry head over to his clique for a few aggressive fist bumps and backpats. It was clear he was not the leader of the Biker Gang. Instead, he must’ve been the organizer guy; which makes sense because a Biker Gang leader doesn’t have to do stuff like look behind him while riding to make sure everyone is in single file. Jax Teller never looked back, only ahead (Sons of Anarchy reference. If you don’t get it, watch the show NOW.) So I started thinking how much it must SUCK to be the guy in the biker gang in charge of making sure they stay in single file while riding around towns. Further, there’s no way that the single-file thing is all Screamy Larry is responsible for, he must be like the Head of Organizing for the biker gang. So the screaming made sense. Can you imagine how frustrating it must be to have to organize a biker gang?!

Aside from the whole single-file fiasco, he’s probably in charge of: figuring out how much each biker owes when they go out for a big group lunch; making sure everyone has the right patch on their leather vest; scheduling the chores at the biker gang clubhouse; AND, Screamy Larry also probably has to keep track of all of the members’ birthdays, ensuring they don’t forget to sing “Happy Birthday” and have cake in the break room. Remember the time they forgot Knuckles’ birthday? Knuckles and Screamy Larry do. Simply can’t have that.

Today, when you’re staring at your computer screen while telling yourself not to say what you really want to say to your boss, be grateful that your job doesn’t entail having to send Venmo reminders to bikers who still owe from yesterday’s team lunch at Longhorn Steakhouse. Screamy Larry knows that half the gang doesn’t even have Venmo, but asking a biker, in person, for money is something he’s just not up for on a Monday.

Money People:

This is broad and general because the whole “money management” universe is foreign and supremely intimidating. I have friends and a brother who work in this world and I cannot imagine the stress of it. Heading to the office on a Monday in charge of managing someone’s retirement or life savings or couch change would fill me with the type of anxiety that necessitates a 3rd martini on a Sunday night (NEVER a good idea).

What do their voicemails sound like? “Hey Jimmy, Mr. Perrywinkle here, I saw a report on the news that the market is taking a dive. Is that the same market you just passionately convinced me to put my life savings into? Just checking, let me know!” There have to be calls like that, right? And then you’d have to call back to remind the person whose bank account you just decimated that the market is, ultimately, unpredictable. I’m sure they understand…

(I always feel impossibly ignorant when talking about money stuff….BUT LETS KEEP GOING!) When I see reports about the stock market doing well or not doing well or doing the same, I think to myself “that should probably interest me more than it does.” In reality, I’m just annoyed that the news put the ‘Market Report’ ahead of the story about ‘Chicago’s Best Mozzarella Stick.’ (The answer is “Roots Pizza” FYI. You’re welcome.) The money guys, though, probably feel their phones seizing during any report about THE MARKET. I can imagine a money guy or gal taking their dog for a walk on a nice day when, out of nowhere, their phone begins vibrating so much that it starts a mini friction-fire in their pants pocket. “Uh oh, THE MARKET!”

Aside from having to be the face of market fluctuations, Money people have to make a lot of spreadsheets and graphs and presentations to really smart people in suits about spreadsheets and graphs. Decimals and percentages and JESUS H. CHRIST it’s hard to breathe while wearing a tie in the summer. If I were a money guy, all of my presentations would just be titled “We Should Invest in ______ Because My Rich Grandpa Said We Should.” That would be the entire presentation, actually.

Rich Person’s Assistant

Most of us work in jobs where we’re surrounded by co-workers who earn about the same amount. Today, when you’re having a mild panic attack re: the $74 you spent on brunch yesterday, you can look to either side and see co-workers also nervously typing in their online banking passwords. The Monday money check is a trying time, but we’re all in it together. That is, of course, unless you work as a personal assistant for a super rich person. While you’re scrolling through the 14 separate charges from “Louie’s Pub” on your Chase Mobile App, your boss is tasking you with picking out a new Monday watch for him. “Something that’s not too flashy, but enough to where people will know that I use the word ‘summer’ as a verb.” That means the assistant gets to go into the jewelry store with a security guard!

Who do these assistants relate to at their job? Who is the friend they can pull aside for the “you know, I hate to complain, but…”-chats? The housekeeper’s are not on your side because they know that you get to ride in the fancy cars. You can’t whine to the spouse because YOU KNOW they’re just going to tattle on you the next time they feel like having a “you can trust me”-convo with your boss. The kids just think of you as the person who gets them the things they want. So you’re left to text your friends who are too busy pretending to not look at their phones on Monday morning. YOU ARE ALONE AND POOR IN A BIG, EXPENSIVE HOUSE! If I was a rich person’s assistant, I would have a designated time every Monday morning where I would just stare at a mirror while crying. I’d also probably steal little things like toilet paper and the little dog poop bags.

MY WORLD:

I’m a one-pair-of-jeans-for-6-to-8-months kind of guy, and it appears I am nearing the end of the road for my current pair of jeans. This always happens and it’s never not sad. The crotchal region of my jeans, having been stretched for months on end, begins to wear…and then a hole appears. This hole gets large quickly and I am forced to retire the jeans. My current jeans are hanging on by mere threads. Upon close inspection this morning, we’re looking at another 3.6 days tops. This means that for the next two weeks I have to wear pants that I don’t really want to be wearing. It also means that I will be a little depressed because as hard as I try, there’s no way around thinking that the jeans died because my thighs got fatter. If you happen to catch me staring down at my thighs over the next two weeks, do me a favor and feel free to mention that my legs don’t look chubbier than they did 6 months ago. A simple “it’s gonna be okay” would suffice too.

And you think you’re having a tough Monday.

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I’m seeing Dave Matthews Band this weekend and I am so excited I’m going to talk about it to strangers this week!

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you get up at 4 A.M. on Monday morning and think “is it even worth it to try to go back to sleep?” Next time this happens to me, I may just buy a ticket to Yugoslavia and start a new life.

GAMBLING WENT HORRIBLY THIS WEEKEND, THANKS FOR ASKING! TURNS OUT, BLINDLY BETTING ON A SPORT YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT (SOCCER) IS NOT A RECIPE FOR SUCCESS. LIVE AND LEARN.

K bye.

Procrastination Nation and Under-The-Radar TV (5/17/18)

MY WORLD:

Are you a procrastinator? ME TOO! Sometimes I’ll go on like 3 week spurts where I’ll be super productive and “ahead of the curve” and then…oh, I don’t know, The VP and I will start “Game of Thrones” AND PUSH EVERYTHING ELSE TO THE SIDE. All of a sudden, it’s Mid-May and both my drivers license (“license” is a hard word to spell FYI. I’ve never gotten it right on the first try) and my city sticker expire in June. Which means, folks, that I’ve basically missed the deadline to renew both of these by mail and now I need to go to the DMV in-person. WAY TO GO, ME! WAY TO ADD AN ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE CHORE TO YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T PLAN AHEAD! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU JIMMY “THE ASSHOLE IDIOT” POMERANTZ; GIVE HIM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!!!

The most messed up part of this whole situation is that I remember getting a reminder about renewing my city sticker a few months back, looking at it and saying to myself “I’m probably gonna forget to do this until the last second and, therefore, force myself to go to the DMV in person.” Seriously, I remember it like it was yesterday. The only thing is, it was funny then, and it’s NOT FUNNY now. When I was a boy in schooling (I don’t know why, but saying “when I was a boy in schooling” with a British accent is making me laugh V hard) I remember all of the sleek justifications for procrastination. The schooling I’m talking about, mind you, was when I was in grad school for screenwriting (I’M LIVING MY DREAM!). A bunch of my classmates and I would read stories of famous writers who would talk about how “all writers are procrastinators” that our framed procrastination as being almost necessary to become a successful writer. Guess what, guys? That was total bullshit. All writers aren’t procrastinators. All writers get nervous when they don’t have anything to write about and then they distract themselves from facing the blank white screens because it white = failure. DROPPIN’ TROOF BOMBS Y’ALL!

I, however, am a legitimate, red-blooded American procrastinator, and here are the things I constantly find myself addressing either at the last minute or…after the last minute…Is this an attempt to take the sting out of my failures by finding fellow procrastinators? YOU BETCHA!

Buying toilet paper before I run out

I thought I’d get better at this after college…then after living with 3 dudes…then after getting married…and I’m still terrible at it. If I was in a job interview tomorrow and they asked “what are some of your weaknesses?” I would be forced to tell them about how often the paper towel roll ends up in my bathroom. It’s sad how I’ve perfected the art of tearing apart the plies of paper towel so as not to clog the toilet with a too-absorbent tissue. Usually, it’ll take about 3 days of me walking into the bathroom and seeing the paper towel roll awkwardly hanging off the toilet paper holder for me to make a trip to CVS to rectify the situation. Could The VP of Ops step in here and make a trip herself? Yes, but she has the FANTASTIC excuse of “well, I don’t have a car.” For as useful as having a car is, I do wonder if the excuses I’d be able to unlock by NOT having one would be more beneficial…

Doing the laundry before I’m forced to wear the emergency pair of loose boxers

Past the age of 27, most men make the switch from boxers to boxer briefs. Screw a Bat Mitzvah, this is when a boy becomes a man! (Bar Mitzvah? Bat Mitzvah? You get what I’m saying.) However, we all keep like one pair of boxers to be worn “just in case”, and that “just in case” is just in case we put off doing laundry to the point where we run out of clean boxer briefs to wear. The “Just In Case”-Boxers will be kept in most men’s underwear drawer for a minimum of 49 years. (Mine are from mid-college. The elastic is BARELY working and they have multi-colored christmas trees all over. If you happen to catch a glimpse of these peeking out above the waistband of my jeans someday, best keep your distance). It’s not flattering, and we know that, BUT! Who’s gonna see them? Seriously, it’s like having a fire extinguisher in your house; you hope you never have to use it, but you’re happy it’s there just in case. These loose, awful feeling boxers are also kinda’ necessary because they do FORCE me to do laundry that same day. Going into day 2 wearing my loose, christmas tree trunks is an absolute nightmare scenario. NIGHTMARE. SCENARIO.

Checking my credit card balance before it gets declined at a restaurant and I act super surprised in front of everyone that heard the waiter tell me “this one didn’t work”

I JUST DON’T WANNA LOOK! Quick aside: The VP hates when I talk about money stuff. She’ll say “I don’t want people to think we’re living under a bridge!” We’re not living under a bridge. We’re actually doing relatively TOTALLY FINE, but that doesn’t stop me from throwing EVERYTHING on my Citi card so I can get POINTS POINTS POINTS!!! (I’m a slave to points, guys.) But then, what’ll happen is, I know I’m getting close to my limit but I put off looking at my account online because I don’t want to have to face how much I’ve spent on Cliff Bars and Waters (and candy) at 7-11 over the past 10 days. When I do finally go to check my account online, I definitely hold my breath and wince while the “recent transactions” page loads. Sometimes I just get so nervous that I bail out of the site before it loads (‘load’ is a funny word). Much the way girls do, I have a “that time of the month” period where every time I hand over my Citi card (free advertising…maybe throw some points my way?) it’s a roll of the dice. I’ll try to watch the server at the computer terminal to see if they’re running the card more than once. If it’s more than once, I’m dead. If they’re shaking their head or rubbing the strip on the back of the card, also dead. If I can see this ahead of time, though, I at least have however long it takes them to get back to the table to come up with a feasible excuse. “Weird, I thought I activated that one”-is a go to. However, if I’m unable to see them at the computer terminal, and they sneak up on me from behind with the “I’m sorry sir, but there seems to be an issue with your card”-I’ll momentarily panic. My instinct is to shoot a flared-nostrils look at The VP and yell “RUN!!!” Unfortunately, The VP is simply not fast enough to keep up with me. Knowing this, I’ll usually just make some self-deprecating joke about how expensive my Peanut M&Ms habit has become.

OUR WORLD:

Are we all officially overwhelmed with the amount of television choices? Over the past few weeks, while proudly crowing about how The VP and I had finally started “Game of Thrones”, I was normally met with a “oh that’s nice, but you HAVE to check out this show!” If you can’t tell, I love T.V. We all love T.V. I’m not even counting the people who say “I don’t own a TV” because they are not people…they are animals (TOPICAL JOKE ALERT!!!)

But sometimes too much of a good thing is bad. (Is that the saying?) I say this because I was planning on writing reviews of G.O.T. (that’s how cool people refer to “Game of Thrones”. I’m part of that club now. AND, YEAH, IT’S A BIG EFFIN’ DEAL!!!) but then I realized that nobody would want to read reviews of a show that are SEVEN YEARS TOO LATE. My bad on that one.

So, if like me, you’re feeling overwhelmed by every one of your friends telling you to watch a different Netflix show, I’ve compiled a list of OLDER/UNDER-THE-RADAR shows and movies that hold up. I’m guessing you haven’t seen these or, if you have, its been so long since you have that re-watching them would be like watching them for the first time. These are not in any order because I don’t want to get into that bullshit. They’re just good (or I’ve heard they’re good from V reliable sources). Giddy up!

“Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” (NBC TV Series): It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)
“Deadwood” (HBO TV Series): I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
“In Bruges” (Movie): It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)
“Boss” (Starz TV Series): It’s just good. (I know, I watched it.)
“Reno 911” (Comedy Central TV Series): It’s just great. (This show is way too overlooked when the topic of “best comedy series” of the past 20 years comes up. This is in the discussion. TRUST!)
“Adaptation” (Movie): It’s just fantastic. (An all-time great screenwriter + Nicolas Cage at his best = YUP!)
“Moon” (Movie): Think “The Martian” but grittier and more realistic. Sam Rockwell is the most underrated actor going right now.
“Terriers” (FX TV Series): I’ve heard it’s good from V reliable sources.
“Rescue Me” (FX TV Series): It’s great and it has been long enough for me now that it’s entering into the “may be time to re-watch that”-category.
“Zodiac” (Movie): The more I remember this movie, the more I think I loved it. Downey Jr and Gyllenhaal at their best.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Top 5 Funny TV Character is “Terry” from “Reno 911”

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When a new person moves into the apartment below you and thinks that talking outside on speakerphone at 11:49 P.M. on a Wednesday night is appropriate. (ANGRY OLD MAN ALERT!)

I DON’T WANT TO BRAG BECAUSE I’VE BEEN ON A REAL HEATER TO THE POINT WHERE I’M GOING TO ACTUALLY WITHDRAW FROM MY GAMBLING ACCOUNT, AND PUT THOSE WINNINGS INTO BITCOIN. THIS IS NOT A JOKE, I’M A BITCOIN INVESTOR NOW AND I’M THRILLED ABOUT GETTING TO RIDE THE WAVE ON MY WAY TO BECOMING MEGA-STINKY-RICH.

I mean, I think the new section title says it all.

(My account currently at $327.55)

K bye.

Worse Jobs Than Yours! (4/30/18)

OUR WORLD:

It’s a Moody Monday, and even though it’s sunny and kinda’ warm outside, it still STINKS. When I took Belle out for a walk this morning, she barked at an older woman on a bike. The bike woman replied to the barking by immediately stopping, shaking her head in a disapproving manner and saying “that is quite the reaction.” So my Monday started with a judgmental stranger. I wanted to be like,”was it worth stopping your bike and going through that whole dramatic routine?” I didn’t say anything, but I hope she gets hit by a truck carrying grenades.

If you can’t tell, I really need to make myself feel better by getting into today’s “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job list.

Grocery Store Pianist: I guess you can call yourself a professional musician if you get paid to play the piano at a grocery store, but that’s not going to take away the disappointment coming from your parents and the $65k they WASTED on your college education. (That was a really mean way to start this section. MOODY Monday is ALIVE!) Have you ever had the moment on Sunday when you’re wandering through the pasta aisle, talking yourself out of buying all the pastas, and you hear music that sounds live? Then you’ll glance around and see that someone thought it would be a good idea to put a GRAND FUCKING PIANO by the paper towel section and there’s a dude in a big dumpy suit ACTUALLY PLAYING IT!

You know that guy has to be nervous the whole time he’s there that someone he went to high school with is going to recognize him and ask “so how’s the music thing going?” That’s not to say that these pianists are bad, actually I’m normally impressed (not many bands looking for piano players?) but when your job immediately elicits “why do they pay someone to do that?”-responses, you’re in a tough spot. Seriously, what is lost if the grocery store just…I don’t know, put the pandora piano music station on? Would there be people that would ask for the manager and be like “where’s the paper towel section piano concert that I was promised?” ALSO! the tipping situation is a no-win for everyone involved. You can’t ask the pianist if he accepts tips because that’s super awkward. The baggers and cashiers have no idea. Then if you do tip the pianist, maybe you’re making him feel worse (like a beggar!). But if you don’t, and he was expecting it, then he’s not making money. BUT WHO BRINGS PIANIST TIP MONEY TO MARIANO’S?!?!

The only people who genuinely appreciate this person, the ones who applaud at the end of the songs, are looked at by EVERYONE ELSE IN THE STORE like real weirdos. They’re the same people who applaud pilots when the plane lands. We get applauded for doing our jobs now? And the pianist probably doesn’t like it cuz it draws attention to him and raises the chances that someone he knows will recognize him. I’m sure they play it off like “I just love playing music,” but that’s garbage because they probably had to apply for that position. It’s not like a Mariano’s manager was just taking a stroll, overheard someone playing a GRAND FUCKING PIANO, and asked if they’d share their gift with the loyal patrons of the paper towel section.

Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker: Ever feel like you’ve eaten only carbs for an entire day and then you retrace what you’ve eaten and YOU HAVE ONLY EATEN CARBS?!?! Then you get sad and look in the mirror and suck your cheeks in and tell yourself that “diet starts tomorrow.” If you’re an Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Maker, you are surrounded by delicious smelling, buttery salty carbs all day, everyday at work. Don’t tell me “oh, you’d get sick of it” either. There’s no better smell in the whole wide world than the pretzel stand in the mall food court.

If that’s your job, though, and you’re trying to be frugal because…I mean because you work at Auntie Anne’s…then you probably get a free lunch as part of your shift. Which would be nice unless you’re just starting your diet and all Auntie Anne’s has are BUTTERY TWISTED CARB LOAFS! Has anyone in the history of the universe ever ordered anything OTHER than a pretzel at Auntie Anne’s? Pretty sure they don’t have salads, so the pretzel maker’s free lunch is either “with salt” or “without salt” (who in the fuck get’s “without salt” btw?)

So you’re just sweaty, probably covered in a thin layer of butter, not making that much money AND unable to EVER start a proper diet. I bet the pretzel makers look over at the salad stand in the food court and ask for trades, but the salad people are like “nah, I just cut out carbs. Smells great, though!”

Old Timey Shoe Salesman: The old guys in the suits who are super sales-y and try to talk you into trying shoes on and then treat you like you’ve never put a shoe on in your life. They have that real shiny shoe horn thing, and their WAY too comfortable handling your feet. Once they’re at that level, there’s no turning back because those skills don’t translate to other industries. Not like a pharmaceutical sales company is gonna be like “now tell me about the time you shoehorned that coalminer’s swollen foot into the penny loafer.” That’s just your job forever.

But what about the process that desensitized these people so much? Nobody is just automatically comfortable handling strangers feet, right? (There’s gotta be one guy reading this who just looked over his shoulder and is like “I mean…sounds good to me…”) How about the first time a woman with smelly, scabby feet came into your section? You could see that she wasn’t wearing socks, but it’s not like you had to see it because you could DEF smell it. You get fired if you refuse to help her, and I don’t think you can wear surgical gloves. We’re talking skin-to-smelly-scabby-skin contact here, folks.

MY WORLD:

The VP of Ops is back in town after being gone most of the past 2 weeks, and it has been somewhat of a rocky readjustment period. Is it just me, or when your spouse leaves do you IMMEDIATELY revert to your single ways and then kinda’ fight when they get back because you’re used to living like a bachelor? The VP took my car to Trader Joe’s (a place I’d rather NEVER SEE AGAIN) and came back all “Don’t worry, I threw out your chewing tobacco tin.” Then she walked past me all nonchalant with a little smirk to make me feel REAL small. So I hit her back with a “so happy you’re back!” but I didn’t laugh because I was going for something deeper. Counter-punching, ever heard of it?

Then our spring cleaning turned into me watching The VP just create bigger messes while rearranging furniture to “open the room up.” Maybe just crack a window next time instead of dumping all our mail over the floor? But then I’m not allowed to be mad because I wasn’t doing anything (because it was Sunday and I was in full-on do-nothing mode). So we just kind of didn’t say anything to each other for a while except the occasional “I love you” to break up the silent-fight we were having. Being married is fun.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I could not be more excited about the Bears drafting Roquan Smith and I spent the majority of the weekend looking up videos like this…

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When parents talk to their kids like adults in public in an effort to sound funny, but their kids don’t understand it so they keep crying. Confused? Think of a parent saying something along the lines of “I am not understanding your viewpoint on this issue” to a crying kid. It’s not that funny and it doesn’t help settle down the kid.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

I got absolutely demolished this weekend. I’m telling myself to take tonight off…but that probably won’t happen.

(My account currently at $108.14)

K bye.

Wednesday Work Robots and Missing Immaturity (4/25/18)

OUR WORLD:

Wednesday is such a day for adults. The midpoint of the weekday grind is the exact point where you don’t know where or who you really are anymore; you’re just the person who puts on the least wrinkled shirt in your closet and walks your dog before disappearing into a computer screen for 9 hours (9, not 8, because you’re a GOOD WORKER BEE!) Throughout the day, some people will make hump day jokes because of that talking-camel commercial and you’ll kinda chuckle because the word “hump” is funny. But, all you really want to do is not talk to ANYONE and just blackout until late Thursday afternoon when Friday’s rays of sunshine begin to poke through your office blinds.

This grind is such a mature mindset. I remember coming out of college and trying to treat every night like Friday because “I like to have fun!” The thought of basically transforming myself into a work-robot during the week was too sobering for Jimmy IT’S ALWAYS GOOD TIMES. And while this maturing is good for the health of my brain and body, I’ll have instances where I daydream about getting to be immature again. Don’t you? Like, don’t you just want to take your shirt off in the middle of your office sometimes and run out while screaming “I’M FREE!!!” You’re not gonna do it, but it’s funny to think about. Thinking about EXPLOSIONS of immaturity is what gets me through some of life’s most mundane and scary situations/settings; and I think if you’re not partaking in this exercise as of yet, it might help you as well. So today, I’d like to start a new Wednesday tradition on Jimmyschair and write about “places where you really want to act more immature than is socially acceptable”:

The Dentist Office:

You probably haven’t gone in over 3 years and it’s getting to the point where you’ve convinced yourself that “something real bad is happening.” I went for the first time in like 5 years a couple months ago (not to brag) and was POSITIVE the dentist was going to take one look at me before calling a Priest to read me my last rights. (Spoiler alert: I’m still alive and it wasn’t that bad). But your imagination runs WILD to the point where you start contemplating “what if I just never went to the dentist again? People in olden times didn’t go and they seem to be doing okay in most of the movies I’ve seen them in.” That is until you throw a pile of almonds in your stink-trap of a mouth, bite down and feel like an a-bomb went off inside your back molar. The “oh fuck, something’s really wrong in my mouth” is a top 1 worst feeling in life.

So you finally make an appointment, but you’re really hoping that an alien bomber plane will just blow up the world before you actually have to go. But that never happens because you have bad luck, so you go to the dentist and have to be MATURE and pretend like you’re not that scared. Wouldn’t it be great to be immature here? Like, just walk into the dentist office crying. Go up to the receptionist wildly shaking your head and weeping “I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go!” Then when the dentist emerges with his scary surgical mask, you literally SCREAM BLOODY MURDER “GET AWAY FROM ME! NO! NO! HELP! MOM HELP!!!!” The dentist would have to try to calm you down by speaking on a sweet voice and assuring you that “everything is gonna be okay.” But you still wouldn’t totally believe him as you sat down in that murder-chair.

Then they’d turn the lamp on and ask you to open your mouth, but since you’re still in immature-mode you just refuse to. The dentist’s assistant would kneel down next to you and maybe rub your shoulder a little to calm you down (wouldn’t that be nice as an adult? Guess what, kids aren’t the only ones scared of the dentist!) So then finally, after being talked to like a baby, you’d open your mouth a little and they could begin to clean your teeth. It’s not bad at first, but then they start scraping and you LOSE IT again. This time, it’s a full-on “get away from me!”-fit to the point that they have to konk you on the head with a mallet to continue the cleaning. I don’t know about you, but if my dentist appointment included being knocked out cold by a mallet-to-the-dome, I’d consider that a win for the mere fact that I wouldn’t have to hear all the drilling noises.

MY WORLD:

I’m not gonna lie guys, I am supes biz at work (cute way of saying I’ve thought about crying on a semi-regular basis over the past few weeks). So that’s my world right now: being super busy, feeling bad that my dog is alone for way too long during the day and trying to cool it with the “I worked hard today, so I deserve to binge on candy tonight.”

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Did you think I was kidding when I said I was about to go on a big Death Cab for Cutie kick?

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When “Chicago Fire” is filming two blocks away from your apartment building and, therefore, blocking off 2 streets worth of parking. So when you get home at night, there is no parking left and you have to park like 9 blocks away on a street known for muggings. I’ve never watched this show and, if you do, I’d ask that you please stop. Thank you for your service.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Cool thing happened to me last night, I forgot to bet on Milwaukee until midway through the first half. Which means that I got them at (+11.5) and they covered! San Antonio also covered, so I went 2 for 3 last night! This parlay kid could use one hitting, but at least I’m not on some big smelly losing streak or something. Got a bunch of games going tonight, and here’s what I’m thinking as of now: Jazz, Wizards, Rockets, and Bucks all against the spread. Will my thinking change between now and gametime? Quite possibly.

(My account currently at $182.80)

K bye.

At Least You Don’t Have That Job and Bad Purchases (4-2-18)

OUR WORLD:

Boy am I excited that it’s Monday AND it’s absolutely freezing outside! This is the best! LIFE IS MEANT TO BE LIVED!!!! If you happen to see me before 9AM this morning, do yourself and walk the other way because NOT TODAY! On days when I catch myself being extra bitchy and pouty (oh, so everyday Jimmy?) I’ll try to come up with people that have it worse than me. In all honesty, my job is like 87% good stuff and the rest isn’t stuff that is worth bitching about the way the rest of the working world gets to (but I wanna pout too!!!! Also, maybe I said that so co-workers don’t give me a side-eye, like “so…if working here is so bad maybe you should just quit!” jk guys lol omg ttyl!) REGARDLESS! Some Mondays I find myself running through what jobs have it way worse than I ever had and, hopefully, ever will have. If you’re having an especially rough Monday, roll through this list and I think you’ll begin to feel thankful. Let’s call these the “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-Job List…(if you happen to work one of the following jobs then may God have mercy on your soul.)

–Anything having to do with outdoor construction: Aside from the 6 days of the year that are in the perfect temperature range, construction workers have to either be freezing or hotter than hell. Aside from that, they have to wear the big heavy boots FOR SAFETY! They have to wear hardhats that would def mess with your hairline, and the bending and lifting and digging and hammering and what if you slip? If you’re a full-time construction person, you definitely have a story about slipping and “that’s why my hand doesn’t really work anymore.” Aside from the actual work itself, keep in mind that the general public is FUCKING annoyed with construction sites because they’re loud, hold up traffic and “like, is it EVER gonna be done?!” How many angry drivers do you think these people have to deal with per day? If you’re working road construction, there have to be at least 8 times a day where some douche in a foreign car lays on his horn because construction has created a traffic jam. Does the horn help ease the jam? Of course not, but Mr. Audi Douche would like everyone to know that he HAS A FUCKING MEETING!

The combo of backbreaking work and a generally ungrateful audience is a ROUGH work environment. The only upside is getting to eat whatever you want because you just worked so hard. Like, if I’m jackhammering a sidewalk for five hours (that’s a thing they do, right) you better believe I’m not gonna worry about how many carbs are in the BIG sandwich from Potbelly. You’re getting that big cuz you earned the ever loving shit out of that big. So that’s nice…but then it’s back to the heat and hard manual labor and, you know what guys? I quit. I just can’t.

-Starbucks Barista: You are immediately SLAMMED busy earlier than the entire world on Monday morning dealing with Monday people who have yet to have their coffee. Seriously, how have their not been more Monday morning Starbucks shootings? Having worked in a restaurant that had a cappuccino machine (whatever, yeah…it’s, not even a big deal) I know first hand that making those foofy coffee drinks is a BITCH. Thankfully, I only had to make like one per 6 hour shift. These Starbucks people have to make like a bajillion all the while an angry pre-coffee mob is waiting off to the side wondering why the fuck their mocha gabba jabba is taking more than one second to make! You think your job has pressure?!?! GET REAL BROTHA!

Also, how many times have you been behind that person at Starbucks who seems to be trying to invent their own personal drink? Like, there’s no way Starbucks has a “virgin, half caf, pseudo-mocha, almond butter infused cafe ole easy foam heavy bubbles”…AND THEN THEY DO HAVE THAT THING! But, the person who ordered it isn’t even impressed! Instead, they just go back to their fucking bluetooth phone convo and you just wanna be like “aren’t you AMAZED with that barista?!?!” But they’re not. Nope, the barista will carry on like the Van Gogh of coffee drink makers and Barry Bluetooth won’t even think about dropping a buck in the tip jar. If I were the barista? I’d just make everyone a black coffee and then shrug my shoulders and say NOTHING when they’d complain.

-Meter Maids: I always always always think about what a meter maid says to his/her spouse when they get back home and are asked how their day was. Is there ever a good day to be a meter maid? Hand up, I am SUPER mean to these people and I don’t even feel that bad about it cuz I’ve become a master of justifying it (I have effectively convinced myself that the only people that could work this job are people that legitimately enjoy ruining people’s days.) When I have a little distance from it though, they are definitely working that job because it pays the bills and they’re just doing their best. Talk about a thankless job. A Meter Maid has never heard someone say “good job!” I bet even their bosses are just pissed they didn’t assign more tickets.

I would love to be at a table next to a bunch of meter maids at a happy hour. Can you imagine the “this is why my job sucks”-stories that they get to share with each other? All day, everyday they are dealing with people who just missed moving their car by 4 minutes. Oh! And, they have to be outside all day in a uniform which mucho stinks. Please, don’t tell me about how it would be “nice to be outside” in the summer. Why do you think air conditioning was invented? Because being outside is nice for a minute and then “it’s actually kinda’ hot.” PASS!

As I’ve written this, my big huge beautiful brain has been flooded with other jobs that would be mucho stinko so….guess what guys?!?! I’m gonna make this a jimmyschair Monday staple. From here on out, FOR THE REST OF TIME! The Monday edition of jimmyschair will include a list of “At Least I Don’t Have To Do That”-jobs. I’m excited.

MY WORLD:

I spent too much money at the bar on Saturday night. I opened up a tab, turned into JimmyGoodTimes and, quickly, morphed into JimmyIGotThis for the proceeding 4 hours. Closing my tab included the “it’ll be okay” self-talk followed by hating myself all day yesterday, with a few “it’s just money, Jimmy” mixed in to try to calm myself. It wasn’t THAT bad (I’m a pouty baby, remember?) but, like, DAMNIT JIMMY! Much the way I do with other jobs on Monday mornings, I tried to remember back to a worse purchase that I have made, in an effort to make myself feel better. That’s when I remembered…I bought a recliner from Costco when I was in high school.

I worked at a golf course in the summers during high school, and since I was too scared to make any actual friends, I turned my bedroom in an ultimate hang-zone (you talkin’ ’bout a Hangzone 5000? Yeah guys, I am.) I bought a mini-fridge, a big tv, XBox and…all I needed was a big comfy chair. My bedroom was small and my parents definitely had caught on to my blossoming loner-den, but I lied to them about all the friends I had so, I SAID I’M FINE MOM!

Anyway, Costco had a put-it-together-yourself massaging recliner for like $400. I told my dad that I was going to get it and he rolled his eyes so hard he def saw his brain. Look, I was a stressed out lil baby and NEED MASSAGES DAD! GAH! My bedroom was 1,000,000,000,000% too small for this chair, but I was determined to be comfy at all times instead those four walls. So I saved up for weeks and bought the friggin chair. It took me FOREVER to put together and would slam into my dresser every time I leaned back. The “massaging” felt and sounded more like loose pebbles being thrown at my back a little too hard, and the plug sparked whenever I put it in the wall outlet. Did someone order a fire hazard?

Whenever my dad would walk past my room, I would sit in the chair and make purring noises because I was very weird and thought that would make him jealous that he didn’t have such a chair. He was never jealous. Disappointed? Absolutely. Jealous? That’s gonna be a “no”. After a few weeks of pretending to be comfortable in a not-comfortable-at-all-massaging-recliner, I dug the box out of the garage, dismantled the chair, and returned it to Costco. They gave me all my money back and….WAIT!

That didn’t work at all. Now I don’t feel better about my weekend bar spend because I can’t throw the 19 Tecates I had in a box and return them to the bar. Great. Well, I hope you enjoyed my exercise in not-making-myself-feel-better. GODDAMNIT!

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This scene came up at our Easter dinner and we all laughed like maniacs. Enjoy:

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

When you open up your refrigerator on Monday morning and see all the Easter candy you stole from your parents house is sitting right in front of your dumb, fat face but you can’t have any cuz it’s Monday morning and you were gonna get back to eating healthy this week. Thissss isssss jusssssssst GREAT!

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

I’m not gonna lie to you guys. I know that I bet on Kansas and Michigan this weekend. I also know that JimmyGoodTimes made quick friends with JimmyGambles and, next thing I know, I had like a billion little bets going on the two final four games this weekend. What were they? I absolutely do not remember and, no, I will not check my betting history to see what they were. All’s I know is that I only lost like $9 which is less than $10, so I’m basically even. I’LL TAKE IT! Tonight? I’m probably gonna bet on Michigan because my friend went there, but my brain thinks Villanova is gonna chop Michigan’s head off.

(My account currently at $64.82)

K bye.

Restaurant Rules and Nightmares Pt.1

OUR WORLD:

I had a server nightmare last night (I think…I may not have because I super suck at remembering my dreams), but it got me thinking about back to my days working in restaurants. Probably because I hated working in restaurants, but there were like A BILLION things that customers did that annoyed me. Now that I’m just a Normal Joe who doesn’t work in restaurants anymore (aside from an occasional serving shift I have to beg my old boss for when my gambling losses become an ISSUE) I have noticed that there are like A BILLION things that restaurant workers do that annoy me. IT’S LIKE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE IS AGAINST ME!!! (maybe my favorite George Constanza line that my Dad and I throw back and forth at each other anytime any tiny thing annoys us.)

costanza

Having worked in restaurants and now….uh, not….I would like to help ALL OF US (we’re a community!) by spelling out “What Not To Do” for both customers AND restaurant workers. I will do the ones for customers today and the ones for restaurant workers tomorrow (Tease ’em like a pro, Jimmy!) My hope is that each side will begin to understand the other and we can rid the restaurant world of the passive aggressiveness and the “you’re not going to believe what table 7 just did” that currently plagues the world’s restaurant scene. Let’s start with the customers…

“WHAT NOT TO DO” FOR RESTAURANT CUSTOMERS

–When your server gets to your table, don’t play finger-drums on the table and ask “so whaddya’ got?”

Whether this place is busy or hasn’t had a customer since you were born, the server will immediately go into a silent, rage filled, forced smile while holding back EVERY SINGLE FIBER OF THEIR BEING from pointing at the menu and saying something along the lines of “READ, MOTHERFUCKER!” Nearing the end of my time as a server, I would give SUPER snarky responses when asked this question. I was lucky a customer never punched me for responding “that’s what menus are for”, but come on, that is an asinine and NOT FUNNY question. That’s the thing I never understood as a server; Someone would do the finger-drums/”whaddya’ got?” routine and look around their table like they’re expecting Richard Pryor-in-his-prime-laughs. What’s funny about basically asking a stranger to read for you? The amount of tired/lame/jesus-just-shut-the-fuck-up jokes that servers have to hear is insane, so do them a favor and keep this lame not-joke to yourself. Every living being in the history of the universe has something better to do than hear this routine.

-Don’t be the first or last customer of the day.

This one doesn’t make total logical sense, but I am writing this to help customers. Obviously, if there was NEVER a “first customer of the day,” there would be no customers and no money for the servers and the servers would all be evicted for not being able to pay rent and then have to live under bridges with VERMIN! That being said, every server hates their first and last customers of the day. I remember setting up in the morning, watching someone approach the doors right as the clock struck 11:30AM and saying to myself “Jesus, they have to get here THE SECOND we open?!?!” It’s an assholey thing to think and say, but all servers feel this way. It’s almost like, all servers don’t want to be serving, so if no one ever shows up they don’t have to face the harsh reality that they’re still working a job they don’t want to be working. (That’s DEFINITELY how I was/am/will always be.)

As far as being the last customer of the day, there is one caveat, it only applies to when being the last customer before the restaurant closes. If you’re a server’s last customer at the end of their lunch shift, they’ll really like you as long as you don’t linger when paying the bill. However, if you’re the person who walks in 8 minutes before closing and asks “are we too late?” everyone that works there hates you. They won’t be able to tell you that it’s too late because there’ll be one boss/owner who actually tries hard at their job, so they’ll probably force a smile and say something like “not too late…excuse me while I take a quick rest on the train tracks though!”

-Don’t eat your entire meal and then call a server over to offer “constructive criticism” about the dish.

This is a quick way to make your server feel bad. You said nothing throughout the entire meal, then want to tell them how disappointed you are when it’s too late for them to do anything? If your steak was “too salty”, then why did you eat it and lick your plate? Do you know how uncomfortable it is for a server to approach a chef about something being wrong with a dish? IT’S THE WORST! Now, if there’s like a nail in a hamburger, sure you can say something like “Hey Chef, maybe next time, don’t put nails in the hamburgers.” But, if a table has eaten EVERYTHING on the plate, uh…not going to the chef. “Hey Chef, they ate everything but wanted me to relay some constructive criticism to you because, even though they fuck up cooking boxed macaroni at home, they eat.” Not happening. If you have a legit issue with your food, bring it up EARLY. If you finish your plate, nobody cares about your “tips” on how to make it better.

-Don’t insinuate that you know the owner.

You’re not fooling anyone when you ask “is ‘Owner’s name’ here tonight?” We all know that you don’t actually care to say hi to the owner, but that you’re really just letting the staff know that you’ve met their boss before. Ugh, douche alert sirens BLARE when someone asks this. If the owner IS in the restaurant, and approaches YOU, then fine, you’re gonna get fantastic service for fear of pissing off a boss. The truth is, the only people that openly insinuate that they “know the owner” are assholes who tilt their head and give no-teeth smiles when they send back ANOTHER drink! Next time, instead of asking if the owner is there, just stand up on a table with a bullhorn and announce to the entire restaurant “I plan on being condescending to my server tonight!”

-Give Yelp! a rest.

Restaurant workers hate Yelp! the way you hate the “things to work on” section of your employee review. Imagine if that section was then put on a public website! Do servers/restaurants do things that they deserve to get shit on for? Of course, but most of the time, the people that write on Yelp! didn’t say anything when they were actually in the restaurant. Typically, they rile themselves up about what happened on the ride home (I can’t believe that server only gave me one extra lemon when I asked for extra lemonS! THE ‘S’ MEANS PLURAL YOU FUCKING SONOFABITCH!) and then decide that their imagination requires a public forum (Jimmy, that’s exactly what you’re doing right now with this blog…and now my brain hurts). The thing that stinks most about Yelp!, aside from having to type out the exclamation point every time I write ‘Yelp!’, is that most people take it as gospel. Sometimes, servers are just having a bad day and…just relax about it. When I started dating the VP of Ops my biggest issue with her was how much she relied on Yelp! when picking a restaurant. Now, she likes the pictures more than the reviews (reading is not her strong suit…What?!?! Have you seen her degree?!?! Me neither!!!) but it felt like she was validating every tattle tale who couldn’t wait to run home and type their Yelp! review. Also, real quick, a very good friend of mine once revealed to me that he was one of Yelp’s “Elite Reviewers” because he wrote so many reviews. He was bragging about all the perks that came from Yelp! for doing this: restaurant deals, free meals at new restaurants, etc. I haven’t looked at this “very good friend” the same since. In fact, I would like to officially reduce him from “very good friend” to “friend”. You know who you are.

MY WORLD:

Quick story about my worst day as a restaurant worker. I was managing (natural leader stuff) a mom-and-pop restaurant in the suburbs that would get REAL busy, especially in the summer because our outdoor section was dopeshow 10,000. This night, we were SLAMMED both inside and out, with a bunch of people waiting for a table to open up. Servers were sweating from having to hustle, the kitchen crew was sweating because it was hot in there and most of them were overweight, and I wasn’t sweating that much cuz I’m not a sweaty guy but…THIS NIGHT WAS A SWEAT!

In the middle of this very tense steamroom, when it’s all a blur of “sir, your table should be ready any minute” and “Sharon, can you scream at table 9 to get up?!?!”, an older gentlemen asked me where the bathroom was. Now, keep in mind that the inside of this restaurant was like 10 square feet. Tiny place with the kitchen obviously on one side so…the bathroom could ONLY be on the other side. I pointed him in the direction and he scurried away. He had a mean face…and I’m telling you that because it’s true and you need to know that before getting really sad.

Next thing I know, one of our servers flares her nostrils and points down at the ground in a panic. Another server said something like “is that a meatball?” and, oh dear god no, there was a big-meatball-sized shit on the ground. Old guy didn’t make it…(I know, you’re feeling bad for him right now and I understand that. Don’t get too sad yet, it evens out….) Being the manager, I had no choice. I wasn’t going to make the busboy making bullshit money do this…and the servers had already sprinted into the kitchen away from the meatball-poo. I flew to the back, got the broom and dust pan, swept the dumperoo up, sprinted back to the alley and threw ALL OF THAT OUT. Then whipped back inside, to spray and scrub human shit out of the carpet on my hands and knees. The smell was real, but there was no time to waste and making a big deal out of it would’ve freaked everyone out even more…so I acted like it wasn’t a big deal. It was.

As I scrubbed away on all fours like I was trying to cleanse every last carpet fiber that was bombed, the old man and his son stepped over me. They literally lifted their legs to step over me the way you step over your sleeping dog on the way to the couch. They then returned to their table outside to finish their meals LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. I get that old people accidents happen and aren’t funny, but as the son, wouldn’t you have gone in to say something like “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, how can I help?” to me? NO?!?! NOTHING?!?! AM I ON PLANET BULLSHIT!?!?!

The family literally said nothing to me and they came in and out of the restaurant a few more times. Thankfully, they didn’t leave any other presents for our carpet on these trips, but how do you walk past someone who just scrubbed up your grandpa’s shit without so much as a “fuck-I’m-embarassed” look? It was almost like this was par for the course for them. “Hey guys, here’s the plan for tonight: let’s go to dinner, order apps and drinks, ignore when Grandpa dumps in the middle of the busy restaurant, and then get dessert and go back to laughing!”

I used to smoke cigarettes in these days and I remember the cigarette I lit up after that shift was the most-deserved cig in my lifetime.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Emma Gonzalez. I know this is out of left field and kinda’, maybe too political for the type of stuff I normally write, but Emma is all sorts of badass. I think it’s really easy to label High School students as dumb, because you were dumb in High School (I’m including me in this. I was very very dumb and very very afraid of everything in High School) but this badass is not dumb and not afraid. Or, if she is afraid, she’s tough enough to overcome that fear to say make super poignant points that require bravery to say. I am incredibly impressed by Emma and I really like telling people that.

Emma Gonzalez

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

This is how our sink looks every morning after The VP of Ops “brushes” her teeth. I legitimately don’t think she was ever taught how to properly apply toothpaste to her toothbrush.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT I AM GENUINELY CONFIDENT IN BECAUSE I DESERVE GOOD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO ME AFTER GETTING REAR-ENDED BY A GUY WITHOUT A LICENSE:

Didn’t gamble last night because I’m a strong man who has will power and gambling is not a problem for me so please stop asking me if I think I may “have a problem.” Thank you.

(My account currently at $102.61)

K bye.