Busch Stadium...baseball heaven.
Every time I go to a baseball game, I buy two things: A scorecard and a hot dog. Sometimes two hot dogs. But that's really all I need. I guess you could call me a fanatic minimalist. I don't need beer so badly as to pay a whole hour's wages for just one. I don't need to visit the team store and drop an entire paycheck for a windbreaker. I certainly don't need those ridiculous phosphorescent slushy-drinks that dangle from the vendor's rack like my dad's collection of '80s neckties. Just give me a simple lineup card and a sky clear for baseball.
I wasn't at a baseball game today. I was at work, which really didn't make today much different from so many other days this summer. I work at a fake Mexican restaurant for white people who like to think they're cultured. The food comes from a company called "U.S. Foods." The place is owned by a native Iranian who moved here after the Shah was deposed. The closest we've ever come to hiring an actual Mexican was one guy who was half-Cuban, but he was an asshole, so he didn't last very long.
I think some of the servers don't trust me like they used to. A couple of them have been watching me much more closely when they come to get their tips, and a few others are just yelling at me a lot more. One of the other hosts noticed this last Friday and asked me what I must've done to get them so riled up. To be absolutely clear, I don't steal tips. I don't work for tips, but if I did, I wouldn't be working in this place because the customers are cheap. It's probably because the customers are so cheap that a couple of the servers are growing more paranoid.
It's not a glamorous job by any means, but it pays for my car and my phone. Student loans cover the rest. I'm moving into a new place next week, closer to campus and in a nicer neighborhood. Which reminds me...I still need to find a desk and a bed frame before next Monday...the desk would at least give me a proper place to write my pedagogy papers, and I'm sure a bed frame would be much more impressive to any gentleman callers than just a twin mattress on the floor...
The gentlemen haven't been calling lately. It's just been a long(ish) line of douchebags typical of the rural Illinois gay scene. I think when classes pick up again I'm just gonna have to grit my teeth and look for a guy from Chicago. He'll probably be a Cubs fan...seems like they all are...but hopefully he'll have one or two redeeming qualities, like a proper tenor range or a tasteful sensibility toward beer.
The Cards play Houston again tomorrow, Westbrook on the mound. I won't be sleeping easy tonight...
No comments:
Post a Comment