so, its been well over a year. there are a multitude of stories from the 6 months i spent as a bartender at an irish pub. but another time. its been over a year and the truth is i am still a shitty waitress. but now i live in a town full of shitty waiters and waitresses so at least my misery has lots of company.
my main issue now is i find myself often out of my league. the foodie revolution completely missed me while i was pouring 50 guiness, drafts, perfect, priest collar-no bubbles, just a little drip down the side guiness an hour to a ridiculously loyal happy hour crowd in another town, making mojitos at a latin american place near a university or opening pbrs and chasing crackheads at the downtown haven that no longer exists that none of us ever got over, a job more missed than a favorite lover, but such its life. we take what we can get...
back to the foodie revolution. i just dont know that much about food, about cheese, hell, about the hops in the expensive belgian beer i pour. i can fake it most of the time. and then, like last night, i think im on my game and this strikingly beautiful young refugee from the local campus orders a cheese plate. "tell me about your cheese" she blinks at me through lashes, tossing her hair over her tan shoulder, her billowy blouse worth more than i make in week, earnestly, wanting to know about my cheese. FUCK. "i havent had the cheese today, we have a new selection" LIE
"well, do you have anything close to brie?"
now. at this point in my "career" i should bloody well know what BRIE is like, but i DONT.
at which point her equally lovely companion says to her, "we dont have to choose the cheese, they put the plate together FOR you"
"oh. the cheese plate will be fine. to start"
JAYSUS! its fucking cheese on a plate that you are pairing with allagash fucking white...with a lemon.
i am not accounting for poeple's taste, but i am guessing i should have some of my own by now.
