Yes. That's me. Work and calculus. I didn't really think it was a problem until Andy said that to me one day. It's true. All I do is work and do calculus.
Work.
I just want to take a quick minute and blog about what happened at work on Saturday night. For anyone who doesn't know, I work as a server at a steakhouse. I usually love my job. I love working with people and I love the people I work with. I also realize that not every night is going to be that wonderful night where you leave work with an additional Benjamin in your wallet; and don't get me wrong, it's not all about the money. I have a receipt that a customer returned to me, and all it said on it was "Thanks for great service." For the record, the couple left me a 20% tip, so they weren't the type who were "verbal tippers." I really, really appreciated the note. I still have it in my book and look at it whenever I feel down at work. Saturday, however, I needed more than those words of encouragement.
Storytime.
Well, I guess my Saturday work night started out when I went to leave. I got in my car, started it up, turned up Lady Gaga and put my windows down. (Nice days in Berea, Ohio are hard to pass up.) I back up three feet and my car dies.
Not that it's a really big deal; I always leave a bit early, and my car has done this before. I got it to start up (after quite a few fruitless tries) and parked it back into its spot. Andy took me to work that night. (Thanks, sweetie)
Anyway, I got to work on time by some grace of God. My first table was two guys. Not only were they nice guys, but by some well placed flirting, I made $12 dollars off of that table. *cha-ching*. By another grace of God, my next table was 4 guys. They also drank. And loved me. They even asked my boss to give me a raise. After she refused this, they said she should at least give me paid vacation. (Part-time employers do not get benefits). She told them to tip me well. They did. $16 dollars well. *cha-ching*
My next table was an older couple. A cute older couple, mind you. The guy kind of looked like Mr. Wilson from Dennis the Menace. His wife was one of those cute old ladies. I walked over to their table, introduced myself, got their drink orders and offered appetizers. The guy kind of looked at me and said, "We just sat down, sweetheart" (Or some other endearing term). So I just went back and got their drinks/bread and asked if they were ready to order. They were not so I went back to my business dealing with my other tables. I won't bore you with what went on there, nothing noteworthy.
I went back and got their orders and delivered their salad/chili. Ten or so mins later, my manager, Matt, was chopping up a new salad for the lady at my table. Apparently our romaine was cut too largely for her to eat. Understandable. He took the salad to her and all was well. Their food came up shortly afterwards; I wasn't there to deliver it because I was running someone else's food. I think Matt ended up taking it to the table and they wanted it brought back until they were able to eat it. I took it to them later and, again, it seemed like all was well. When they looked as if they were about done, I walked up and asked if they wanted dessert. They wanted the key lime pie, and the gentleman asked for a box. I went back to the back to get their slice of key lime pie out of the cooler and took it to their table. I removed the lady's plate and asked the man if I could do the same with his. He said no, he would like his box. I apologized and asked if I could get him a glass of water while I was in the back getting his box. He said:
"No. I would like for you to clean our table off. Just forget it, get your manager."
This is the first time this has ever happened to me. In my opinion, the guy was overreacting. Yes, I forgot his box. And yes, he did get free dessert and coffee out of his outburst. But his terrible attitude did little for my self-confidence and self-esteem for the rest of the night. Too bad he was my 3rd table on a Saturday night. I went through a lot more. And to make matters worse, his wife grabbed my arm as they were leaving and as a reply to my "Have a great evening", said in my ear:
"Just get the junk off of the table next time."
I think she might have been trying to make me feel better. But she just made me feel worse. My manager had already talked to me about it. He had already said that the old man was an asshole. And he already told me what happened. And not to worry about it.
Well, dear old lady, there will not be a next time. I will not wait on you again. If I see you and your Mr.-Wilson-look-alike husband I will ask not to be your server.
Because, if I was, I feel that I would have something to live up to, and I do not. I am a great server. I do my job well, and I have tips and previous customers to prove it. I don't have anything to prove to you and your husband.
Calculus.
Yes. I have to do it now.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 17, 2010
Not-so-happy St. Patrick's Day
Not that I celebrate St. Patricks Day or anything.
So, my step-mother is supposed to give me her tax info so that I can use it for my FAFSA (or FASFA. I can never remember.) And she has YET to email me the info. If she doesn't email me the info, not only can I not go to B-W next year, I will not be able to attend any sort of school due to financial reasons.
And to top that off-
The boyfriend and I are arguing.
Gah.
So, my step-mother is supposed to give me her tax info so that I can use it for my FAFSA (or FASFA. I can never remember.) And she has YET to email me the info. If she doesn't email me the info, not only can I not go to B-W next year, I will not be able to attend any sort of school due to financial reasons.
And to top that off-
The boyfriend and I are arguing.
Gah.
Mar 16, 2010
Blogging
I'm terrible at it. I obviously do not blog regularly. I want to, but I do not have time. I don't really want to talk about my past anymore. So that's not the direction in which the blog is going to go. I feel that I should blog about spring break and about my job and about my family. maybe tomorrow night after work I will do just that.
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 20, 2009
My life. And why it's different.
I have been toying with the idea of changing up my blog. A lot. I needed a clever name and a snazzy layout, neither of which has happened. But I think I am cool with that. Tonight, I changed it: Life, With Sass. Lame, yes. However...I think I have an idea to make it work. See, my step mother has always called me "Sassy." My name is Sha-Ray. Sassysharay obviously sounds good, since it what I use for everything. But I also have a story to tell. A story about what I have been through. My life, to date, which makes me the person that I am today. The only reason that I feel like I can do this is because my family really doesn't know about this blog. I used to have it connected to Facebook so that my posts showed up there as notes, but I recently took it down, because all of my family has Facebook. If I want it posted there, I will post it there. But I promised a story, so here it is:
My early childhood was normal, for the most part. I mean, as normal as can be, right? And who am I to define what 'normal' is anyway? Each person/situation is different, therefore there really is no 'normal'. Anyway, that's a different story.
My parents fought a lot when I was a child. They weren't meant for each other, and probably the only thing good that came out of that marriage was my sister and I. They got divorced in 2001, I believe. My dad met someone else. Not that it matters, but to respect confidentiality we will call her "Jane." My dad worked with "Jane" and became good friends with her. They were both married when they met, and they even started hanging out with each other and their spouses. Well, to make a long, boring, not pertinent story short, my dad ended up marrying "Jane."
This is pretty much where my life changed. Drastically. I mean, it was slow, so I didn't see it. But I pretty much went from being a child to an adult. "Jane" had three kids, and my dad had my sister and I. We all lived together, my father got custody of us, however I don't remember why. For the first 6 months or so, we were an okay family. Yeah, Dad and "Jane" fought. A lot. But I was used to it. Remember? My parents had been fighting all of my life. Why would it seem strange? Anyway, "Jane" tried to be friends with my sister and I from the start.
Backtrack a bit:
Summer of 2001, my sister and I were staying with my grandmother in Florida, as we did every summer. My dad came down with "Jane" to pick us up to take us back to Alabama. My sister and I did not know "Jane" at this point, we did not even know that our father was coming down there to pick us up, if I remember correctly. We hung out with them for a while, went to the beach, went to a friends house and swam in their pool. "Jane" bought my sister and I swimsuits, we couldn't figure out what was up, and again, if I remember correctly, I didn't really expect anything. When we got back to Alabama, mother and dad sat us down and told us that they were divorcing. I remember going back into my room and crocheting a scarf. I don't know why. I was not upset.
Back to the story. We were living in Florida, but dad and "Jane" couldn't find jobs so we moved back to Alabama. They both started working, so I was paid to babysit. The term 'babysit' actually turned into 'slave who does whatever she is told' but that is what this story is leading up to, isn't it?
To make a long story short(er), I babysat. All the time. I never really did anything. I think I can count the times I spent the night with someone from the time I was in 5th grade until I graduated high school on my fingers. I can count the times I went out to the mall and hung out with friends on my fingers. I can count the number of things I was -allowed- to do at school on one hand. I cooked, I did laundry, I cleaned. For a family of 7. No. It doesn't sound all that bad. But I started all of this when I was 10 years old. I was never allowed to have an actual childhood. I went to the mall with my sister just the other day, and there were groups of kids hanging out in the mall, and, try as I might, I could not figure out the point of it. What is the point of getting up a group of people, dressing up like you are going clubbing, and just sitting at the food court of the mall. And I assume the reason I cannot understand this is because when I think of all the times when I was out alone with friends in the mall...oh...that's right....I can't think of any. Yeah, this one time I went to the mall with Robin and her mom. (Friend) But all I really remember from it was my "Jane" calling and making me come home early because she needed someone to watch her children.
I was a mother. I was a mother of four children when I was ten years old. Well, I am exaggerating a wee bit. I didn't start fully taking care of her children until after we moved to Ohio, which was in 2004/2005. And then, I think I got about 6 months to a year because we lived with "Jane's" mother. But, after we moved into our own house, "Jane" started working 3rd shift and my dad went back over the road. (He was a truck driver) It was my sole responsibility to do the laundry for every inhabitant of the house, provide the children with food, clean up after them, make sure they bathed, brushed their teeth, did their chores/homework, and went to school. I also had to shop for groceries, and make sure the yard work got done. And when money was tight, I had to figure out a way to make things work. I remember one night, we had barely any food in the house, and I had to conjure up something for the kids for dinner. I ended up making butter noodles. Butter and freakin angel hair pasta. I think I added garlic or something to make it edible. I have served mac and cheese and hot dogs/ramen noodles/walmart rice-a-roni and fried bologna more times that I can even possibly count.
Now, all of this wouldn't have been that bad, but...my father and "Jane" aren't the world's greatest parents by a long shot. I didn't get much thanks or recognition. And if I slipped up and forgot to do something, like start the dishwasher or do a load of laundry, I was grounded for two weeks. No music, no phone, no friends. Now, yes. I realize that I had responsibilities that I had to address, but I was treated different than my siblings. No, they weren't treated great either, but they had much more leeway than I did. They could go without doing their chores for a week and nothing happen, but heaven forbid I go one day.
I was also put down a lot by my father. Don't get me wrong, he was alright most of the time, but I could never make him truly happy. He was always calling me stupid. Always degrading me. Always calling me lazy. Always calling me a bitch. Ungrateful. Spiteful. You name it.
So...let me go on to say: I was a model student. All A's. Valedictorian. I did everything I could to please my father and "Jane." And, yeah, every once in a while they said they were proud of me. But they still called me stupid. Lazy. Bitch. Ungrateful. Spiteful.
I realize that I am kind of jumping around here. But, the story is a hard one to tell, considering that I didn't see it happening.
One thing that still bothers me today. "Jane" and my father really weren't big on us kids showing emotions. We weren't allowed to cry. We got in trouble for crying. Me? When I get angry, I cry. When I am getting yelled at, I cry. When I am upset, I cry. When I get stressed, I cry. AND I DO NOT DO IT FOR PITY. I DO NOT DO IT FOR "BROWNIE POINTS". I DO NOT DO IT TO GET MY WAY. I DO NOT DO IT TO MAKE PEOPLE FEEL BAD. I don't know how many times I have been accused of the previous statements. But, because of this, it is really hard for me to show my emotions now. I do still cry easily, but I try not to. Because I have been conditioned to think that crying isn't allowed. I also don't really speak my mind as much as I should.
And, because of the many years where I was a live-in maid that pretty much did EVERYTHING I was told, I have a really hard time saying "no" to people.
Anyway, I was promised a lot by my father and "Jane". A lot that was never, ever delivered. I gave my childhood away because they didn't want to hire a real babysitter. I never really got the time to just be a kid, to just enjoy the little things in life. Like, I wanted to be in band in high school. To much of a commitment. I wanted to stay the night at my friends' houses. Too bad. I had to baby sit. All the time. I never really ever spent the night at friends houses in high school unless there was a party or something. And that happened once.
Anyway...I think this is going to be a continuing story. Or one in which I post random bits and pieces until I feel content.
This is the first time I have done anything like this.
Sassy
My early childhood was normal, for the most part. I mean, as normal as can be, right? And who am I to define what 'normal' is anyway? Each person/situation is different, therefore there really is no 'normal'. Anyway, that's a different story.
My parents fought a lot when I was a child. They weren't meant for each other, and probably the only thing good that came out of that marriage was my sister and I. They got divorced in 2001, I believe. My dad met someone else. Not that it matters, but to respect confidentiality we will call her "Jane." My dad worked with "Jane" and became good friends with her. They were both married when they met, and they even started hanging out with each other and their spouses. Well, to make a long, boring, not pertinent story short, my dad ended up marrying "Jane."
This is pretty much where my life changed. Drastically. I mean, it was slow, so I didn't see it. But I pretty much went from being a child to an adult. "Jane" had three kids, and my dad had my sister and I. We all lived together, my father got custody of us, however I don't remember why. For the first 6 months or so, we were an okay family. Yeah, Dad and "Jane" fought. A lot. But I was used to it. Remember? My parents had been fighting all of my life. Why would it seem strange? Anyway, "Jane" tried to be friends with my sister and I from the start.
Backtrack a bit:
Summer of 2001, my sister and I were staying with my grandmother in Florida, as we did every summer. My dad came down with "Jane" to pick us up to take us back to Alabama. My sister and I did not know "Jane" at this point, we did not even know that our father was coming down there to pick us up, if I remember correctly. We hung out with them for a while, went to the beach, went to a friends house and swam in their pool. "Jane" bought my sister and I swimsuits, we couldn't figure out what was up, and again, if I remember correctly, I didn't really expect anything. When we got back to Alabama, mother and dad sat us down and told us that they were divorcing. I remember going back into my room and crocheting a scarf. I don't know why. I was not upset.
Back to the story. We were living in Florida, but dad and "Jane" couldn't find jobs so we moved back to Alabama. They both started working, so I was paid to babysit. The term 'babysit' actually turned into 'slave who does whatever she is told' but that is what this story is leading up to, isn't it?
To make a long story short(er), I babysat. All the time. I never really did anything. I think I can count the times I spent the night with someone from the time I was in 5th grade until I graduated high school on my fingers. I can count the times I went out to the mall and hung out with friends on my fingers. I can count the number of things I was -allowed- to do at school on one hand. I cooked, I did laundry, I cleaned. For a family of 7. No. It doesn't sound all that bad. But I started all of this when I was 10 years old. I was never allowed to have an actual childhood. I went to the mall with my sister just the other day, and there were groups of kids hanging out in the mall, and, try as I might, I could not figure out the point of it. What is the point of getting up a group of people, dressing up like you are going clubbing, and just sitting at the food court of the mall. And I assume the reason I cannot understand this is because when I think of all the times when I was out alone with friends in the mall...oh...that's right....I can't think of any. Yeah, this one time I went to the mall with Robin and her mom. (Friend) But all I really remember from it was my "Jane" calling and making me come home early because she needed someone to watch her children.
I was a mother. I was a mother of four children when I was ten years old. Well, I am exaggerating a wee bit. I didn't start fully taking care of her children until after we moved to Ohio, which was in 2004/2005. And then, I think I got about 6 months to a year because we lived with "Jane's" mother. But, after we moved into our own house, "Jane" started working 3rd shift and my dad went back over the road. (He was a truck driver) It was my sole responsibility to do the laundry for every inhabitant of the house, provide the children with food, clean up after them, make sure they bathed, brushed their teeth, did their chores/homework, and went to school. I also had to shop for groceries, and make sure the yard work got done. And when money was tight, I had to figure out a way to make things work. I remember one night, we had barely any food in the house, and I had to conjure up something for the kids for dinner. I ended up making butter noodles. Butter and freakin angel hair pasta. I think I added garlic or something to make it edible. I have served mac and cheese and hot dogs/ramen noodles/walmart rice-a-roni and fried bologna more times that I can even possibly count.
Now, all of this wouldn't have been that bad, but...my father and "Jane" aren't the world's greatest parents by a long shot. I didn't get much thanks or recognition. And if I slipped up and forgot to do something, like start the dishwasher or do a load of laundry, I was grounded for two weeks. No music, no phone, no friends. Now, yes. I realize that I had responsibilities that I had to address, but I was treated different than my siblings. No, they weren't treated great either, but they had much more leeway than I did. They could go without doing their chores for a week and nothing happen, but heaven forbid I go one day.
I was also put down a lot by my father. Don't get me wrong, he was alright most of the time, but I could never make him truly happy. He was always calling me stupid. Always degrading me. Always calling me lazy. Always calling me a bitch. Ungrateful. Spiteful. You name it.
So...let me go on to say: I was a model student. All A's. Valedictorian. I did everything I could to please my father and "Jane." And, yeah, every once in a while they said they were proud of me. But they still called me stupid. Lazy. Bitch. Ungrateful. Spiteful.
I realize that I am kind of jumping around here. But, the story is a hard one to tell, considering that I didn't see it happening.
One thing that still bothers me today. "Jane" and my father really weren't big on us kids showing emotions. We weren't allowed to cry. We got in trouble for crying. Me? When I get angry, I cry. When I am getting yelled at, I cry. When I am upset, I cry. When I get stressed, I cry. AND I DO NOT DO IT FOR PITY. I DO NOT DO IT FOR "BROWNIE POINTS". I DO NOT DO IT TO GET MY WAY. I DO NOT DO IT TO MAKE PEOPLE FEEL BAD. I don't know how many times I have been accused of the previous statements. But, because of this, it is really hard for me to show my emotions now. I do still cry easily, but I try not to. Because I have been conditioned to think that crying isn't allowed. I also don't really speak my mind as much as I should.
And, because of the many years where I was a live-in maid that pretty much did EVERYTHING I was told, I have a really hard time saying "no" to people.
Anyway, I was promised a lot by my father and "Jane". A lot that was never, ever delivered. I gave my childhood away because they didn't want to hire a real babysitter. I never really got the time to just be a kid, to just enjoy the little things in life. Like, I wanted to be in band in high school. To much of a commitment. I wanted to stay the night at my friends' houses. Too bad. I had to baby sit. All the time. I never really ever spent the night at friends houses in high school unless there was a party or something. And that happened once.
Anyway...I think this is going to be a continuing story. Or one in which I post random bits and pieces until I feel content.
This is the first time I have done anything like this.
Sassy
Love/Hate
I'm terribly bored. But I am not quite ready for bed yet. So I am going to make a love/hate list. These were big when I had Xanga, and I ran across my old Xanga page recently. I would post the link, but I can't ever remember how to get back to it. I just stumble across it every once in a while. Let's see how this goes.
I love:
1.) Andy
2.) My family
3.) Good friends
4.) Things that smell good
5.) Christmas
6.) Nicholas Sparks books
7.) Good movies
8.) Happy endings
9.) That feeling you get when you are working out
10.)Good cookies (which, after eating, you feel like you need to work out. haha.)
11.)Movie trivia. I used to play it alot when I was little
12.)Chapstick (sorry. currently have chapped lips. winter, ftw)
13.)Babies.
14.)Painting my nails just to make myself feel better
15.)Turning my music up and singing as loud as I can. When I am alone, of course. lol
16.)Little things that make me smile. Example? When Andy does something totally random, cute, spur of the moment, romantic. Sadly, it doesn't happen all that much.
17.)Sleeping...which I am about to do...
So, this list is obviously incomplete.
And I almost just deleted it all and went to bed. But I guess I can just post the love part and leave the hate for tomorrow. I will do it right after i jog. Because I'm sure I will have a lot to complain about then.
Well, Until tomorrow...
Sassy
I love:
1.) Andy
2.) My family
3.) Good friends
4.) Things that smell good
5.) Christmas
6.) Nicholas Sparks books
7.) Good movies
8.) Happy endings
9.) That feeling you get when you are working out
10.)Good cookies (which, after eating, you feel like you need to work out. haha.)
11.)Movie trivia. I used to play it alot when I was little
12.)Chapstick (sorry. currently have chapped lips. winter, ftw)
13.)Babies.
14.)Painting my nails just to make myself feel better
15.)Turning my music up and singing as loud as I can. When I am alone, of course. lol
16.)Little things that make me smile. Example? When Andy does something totally random, cute, spur of the moment, romantic. Sadly, it doesn't happen all that much.
17.)Sleeping...which I am about to do...
So, this list is obviously incomplete.
And I almost just deleted it all and went to bed. But I guess I can just post the love part and leave the hate for tomorrow. I will do it right after i jog. Because I'm sure I will have a lot to complain about then.
Well, Until tomorrow...
Sassy
Dec 19, 2009
Money and Jewelry...the way to a girl's heart...or mine, at least
Yeah, that means I got my gift from my grandparents. :D It couldn't have come at a better time. Yeah. I need money. Doesn't everybody, though?
An update from last night: I got in to the Nicholas Sparks book. I thought it was amazing until I finished it this morning. Seriously, does he have to make every book extremely sad? I seriously cried for quite a while when I finished it. Talk about being emotionally distraught.
An update from last night: I got in to the Nicholas Sparks book. I thought it was amazing until I finished it this morning. Seriously, does he have to make every book extremely sad? I seriously cried for quite a while when I finished it. Talk about being emotionally distraught.
Anyway. In other news, I am a bit irritated. I wonder when my mother is going to realize that I am not a child anymore. There is a Christmas cookie party tonight, from 4-6 or something, and after 6 there is an "after-party" of sorts. Adults only, of course. So guess who gets to drive their own car so that she and her sister can leave at 6? Yeah. Me. Not that I wanted to go to the "adult" party, I don't drink, nor, admittedly, am I old enough. However, I am not a child, and an invite would have been appreciated.
But, I don't want to sound like I am sulking, I am not. And my sister and I will probably just drop off at the mall and just hang out. It sounds fun. But I think that it is the principle of the whole ordeal that irritates me.
Ah. Maybe I am just overreacting. I tend to do that a lot. Oh, well.
I still have yet to make my other batch of cookies. Mother opted out of making cookies for this social, because, conveniently, I had already made some. Just as long as she doesn't take the credit for my cookies, I don't care.
I sound petty, I know. I'm going to stop now. Because I know I am being ridiculous.
Our first Christmas gathering is tomorrow. I don't even really remember all of the people that are going to be there. I haven't spent Christmas here in quite a while.
Aish. Oh well. Waiting for the mother to get home, then leaving for the cookie thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)