$125.63. not astounding, but i ain't tryna give it back neither.
i decided today that i really like the Jazz Factory. it's a friendly, quaint lil spot w/ EXCELLENT music; it's a great spot to go to w/ ur girlfriends or mixedfriends or significant other for good spirits & good jazz. the food tho is a lil too bourgie for my tastes (my uncle claude wld call it 'white ppl food'). but all & all, it's a nice spot. i can't walk in there w/o thinkin about the love intrest *swoons*
i even kinda like workin there. i didn't notice it until a couple guys from the city newspaper came in; they're runnin a story on the place, specifically about the no-smoking policy, i think (how's that for a boring ass article?). i was standing beneath the 'no smoking' sign & the guy w/ the camera took a couple shots, then the other guy came & asked some general questions. what do i do there, how do i like it, how does this place compare w/ others i've worked at. it wasn't until i noticed myself speaking so highly of the place & the staff there did i realize that i don't hate workin there as much as i thought i wld.
speakin of the staff, they some pretty cool ppl.
melanie - 31 from cincy. just got married. she's white, husband's jamaican. was a member of delta sigma theta @ IU. speaks fluent spanish. likes to talk, but not to an annoying degree.
kim - dunno how old; doesn't look over 23, is thin as a rail and has two--count em--TWO kids. hard to believe.
danielle - kinda ditzy, but a good girl. has one kid, i think.
but
as with evry good set of ppl, there must be one asshole. enter: rick.
rick is an ASS. man
yall,
okay... this muhfka-
he's an older cat. in his 40s im sure. either that or he just aged really, REALLY badly, prolly cause of crack. he look like an ex-crackhead. he's really tall, reeeally thin w/ medium brown skin. hairline's startin to recede & his mouth? fulla barely there, hooked & snared, summa here/summa there bits & pieces of slivers of teeth. and that's a flattering description, i assure u; look like dude chews on lit sticks of dynamite for fun.
& it's always the yukmoufs that always got sum'n to say.
the spaces in his teeth are filled w/ nuthin but praise for himself & evrytime, evrygotdamntime he opens his mouth he's talkin bout himself.
'oh ppl love me. they looooooove me. ppl come in here all the time askin for *me* i kid u not. just last week i had a party of 15 and a party of 25 come in here and ask for me. all u gotta do is know how to work your customers. and i got it, honey. i told ken ima be manager of this place soon. and i will do it, watch. cause i can.'
wow, rick. gee, that's great.
& he's so snide & underhanded. he's the type of cat that'll steal your wallet while u're lookin & get mad at u for sayin sumthin. apparently he's the owner's right-hand man, which means that he basically gets anything he wants in the restaurant. all the biggest parties, the best table sections. & the other severs--danielle specifically--are such sheep. they won't really say anything. dude flipped out on danielle yessaday b/c she spoke out about him being unfair & was just like 'fine rick, whatever you want.'
yo
let him come bitch at me like that. i'm only there for 2 weeks, i don't care if i piss u off. yo snaggletoofed ass ain't finna truck me.
i can't stand him. i tolerate him to keep him from thinkin he can step outta lines w/ me, but today? today i wanted soooo badly to knock him offa his imaginary high horse. i get in today a lil early, so im chillin @ my station. rick comes up to me.
'u look bored. u like to read?'
yeah.
'i got a book in the back. u wannit?'
what is it?
''disappearing acts.''
terry mcmillian?
'yeah.'
i hate terry mcmillian.
'oh. i got somethin else u can read then.'
dude leaves & comes back w/ a composition book. soon as he gets near, his damn mouth is open, braggin on some 'here, i wrote this in 3 days. ONLY 3 days, i sat & wrote this, just sat down & it all came off the top. i'm a novelist too. this is gonna hit the stores within a year.'
dude ain't know that i'm a writer too.
so im readin. and it sucks. it took him 3 days to fill that book w/ that mindless prattle? i cld have more & BETTER in 3 hrs & that's the gospel truth. i cld write circles around that cat & i'm my worst critic. i've never felt confident enuff to claim sumthin like that before, but in this case? so true. so freakin true, man.
it was a typical black dramatic arabesque knock-off e.lynn harris/terry mcmillan joint, only a lot slower, unorganized & just poorly written. dude didn't use quotation marks. how u not use quotation marks & u writin a novel? that coupled w/ his chicken scratch made gettin thru those damn pages slower than smoke offa shit. his characters were underdeveloped, he wasn't near descriptive enough, the plot was weak--it was just boring. it sucked. it sucked and i fully intended to tell him so.
'so what do u think so far?'
eh. it's okay.
'okay? *just* okay?'
yeah. well i mean, i don't typically read novels, specifically of this genre, so--
'that's 3 days. only 3 days. straight off the top.'
yeah, i know. i've done it before. i write too.
'really? what do you write?'
mostly poetry, prose & short stories.
'psh. oh. i did that in high school.'
really.
...
anyway-
'this'll be about $29 when it hits the shelves. have your money ready.'
uh..
well i said i don't typically read this kinda--
'oh you will. you will.'
i may slip u $5 for bein an okay guy, but im not peelin $29 bucks for this.
he just smiled that nauseating smile of his & strode on.
fucker wldn't even shut up long enuff for me to tell him he sucks.
in other news, i get the house to myself tomorrow. moms will be @ work, granny's goin home for our family reunion. i won't be there. neither will my mama, brother, or neice. i really, really used to look forward to goin to the country & actin up.
