If you don't remember that title, it's OK, I am old. "That Was The Week That Was" (also known as TW3) was the title of a British TV show - long ago in a galaxy far away - with David Frost and some of the best (though virtually unknown in the US) writers in the UK.
Anyhoo, it seemed appropriate for this post because it has been one mad whirlwind week here. Averaging 11-hour workdays Sunday thru Thursday was exhausting. Finally got a break yesterday after only 7 hours so I had enough energy to cook myself a nice supper and listen to music a bit.
Job #1 was more boring than ever this week. For 2 consecutive days no one entered the store. I had plenty of time to type up appraisals, fix the printer, print appraisals, and watch the ancient fax machine heave it's last sigh. Then on the third day a few people came in and actually purchased a few baubles from me.
Tuesday was a long day. Doing laundry at 6 am, quick grocery shopping at 8:30, then off to work by 10. Lunch business at job #2 has diminished a bit, too. Tuesday was especially slow and boring. I thought I broke the waterfall in the entryway; a false alarm. I was asked to work a few extra hours into the evening because the boss had a bunch of loose ends that needed tying up before he could relieve me. The dinner crowd really picked me up. Between 5 and 7 pm (when I finally left) the place was hopping; every booth was occupied and the front tables by the glass doors were full of large, happy parties of 6 or 8. It was exciting, but tiring. I didn't even have enough energy to sit and enjoy an after-shift cocktail. It probably would have made me sleepy, anyway. Just wanted to come home and crash. Did I mention that Tuesday was a long day?
Sill, there was a memorable bright spot that I will have fun with for months to come. Believe it or not, since I began working at job #2 in April, last Wednesday was the first day I worked with an all hetero - all male - staff and it was truly bizarre, to put it mildly. More testosterone in the air (and crotches) than a locker room. Talk about young horney toads! No, don't. It ain't pretty.
Well, you can imagine their surprise when 2 very butch, very ugly cross-dressers arrived for lunch. They were not flamboyant but dressed tastefully for an afternoon lunch. The waiters were scared to death and no one wanted to serve the two well dressed, but oh-so-homely customers. I put an end to the debate by allowing two servers to handle the table. I suppose they thought there was safety in numbers. I mean, what did they think was going to happen? It was great fun.
When one of the servers smiled nervously and said, "Hi guys, would you like to start off with a cocktail?" the uglier of the two leaned into the servers' space and in a stage whisper said, "That's 'ladies' dear, and I believe we would like two margaritas." The servers turned bright red before stumbling over each other to get to the bar, or just as far away from that table as possible in the shortest amount of time. The diners were clearly thrilled that two handsome young men, instead of one, would be taking care of their dining experience. I. Love. My. Job.
It was priceless to watch these macho men bitch-slapped into little boys by two guys in drag. I laughed for the 2 hours the couple enjoyed many margaritas and fajitas; noting the looks of terror from the servers as the diners' voices grew deeper with each margarita. None of the other diners batted an eye or ran screaming from the room, but the servers were near combustion as the two helped one another with coat and shawl and left the building. The boys rushed to the front windows in time to see the two walking (staggering?) across the avenue arm-in-arm. I said, "This is Rehoboth, fercrissakes, you acted like you've never seen a guy in a dress before." One server said in low tones, "oh, I've seen them, just never had to wait on them or be close to them before." I shook my head and walked away. And they call me queer! Needless to say, they were quiet until the end of the shift.
Friday's lunch business was busier and great fun - with no drag queans. As mentioned above, it was also a short workday. So, before heading back to the apartment I enjoyed an after-shift cocktail entertained by the bartenders bickering and bitching like two old married queans. Well, they are queans, but not married, at least not to each other. They reminded me of The Bickersons of yesteryear. Their routine set me laughing and after a week of leftovers I was in the mood for a fresh, home made meal last night.
After slipping out of work clothes, sipping a festive martini, I set to work. Supper consisted of roasted chicken breast stuffed with asparagus, cheese, and diced salami. On a bed of buttered rice with a salad on the side. Heaven!
Another bonus was going into work later than usual this morning. It's a three-day weekend which meant the town is full again and it was believed that 3 of us would be needed at the store. We weren't, so only working 4 hours has made my day. I am free to get inspired by a recipe for a pork shoulder roast; one that will freeze well, for multiple meals. Any ideas? Leave a comment and I'll give it a shot.
And so it goes.
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maybe you'll find a good recipe at: www.theotherwhitemeat.com
ReplyDeleteJust delightful reading your narrative about the two cross dressing queans who landed their sequined and ruffled spaceship at your testosterone laden eatery. Oh how I wish I could have seen THAT dining out experience. I’m sure it was better than 10 Christopher Peterson shows! You should have called me immediately. Please do so the next time the Guys...er "Ladies" deign to dine at your establishment.
ReplyDeleteI loved the story of the two CD's and the servers! Isn't it amazing how anyone different than us can make our personal "terror alert" system go red for absolutely no reason.
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