One Table, Two Rock Bottoms

As a server in this lovely city I call home, I often get to witness the highs and lows of the people from Vancouver. As the everyday waitress, with a smile and laugh painted on my face like thick, old lady make-up, I laugh with you, sympathize with you, and sometimes, I fill the position of one-stop therapist and best friend all rolled into one. 

Today I am going to tell you about a table I had one day, where two very different people hit their proverbial "rock bottoms" all within the same night. I was working at a busy, popular destination-restaurant in the heart of downtown. Working here was always an adventure as my clientele varied daily and the people I worked with were some of the best I have known. 

I start off my evening slow; typical couples coming in for one or two drinks before they headed off to other spots in the area. This was the trend for my evening until I was lucky enough to have a walk-in party of six people, for an after-work Friday celebration of the year-end approaching. 

A boss and his five employees started off like any other table, ordering a round and relaxing amidst the surrounding casual ambiance. Things started to take a weird turn when I noticed one of my patrons staring at another table across the room. And when I say staring, I don't mean the way you look at the hot babe strutting past you in the stilettos and the maybe-too-short dress, I mean STARING, like you have seen a ghost, murdering another ghost. 

At the table in question sat a very pretty blonde woman, who, as it appeared, was having a wonderful date with her boyfriend... or so it seemed.

 I made my way to the back hallway, because although wondering why my guy is displaying borderline stalker tendencies, I have things to do and people to feed. 

While I am standing in the hallway the gentlemen in question comes storming into the area, talking dramatically into his cellphone, and all he kept saying was; "Dude!! I mean it, she's here and you have to see this!! She's like... touching him and kissing him, GET HERE NOW..."

 I did my best to not pry, I mean, I see this stuff all the time, or so I thought. But being a waitress means that sometimes (or... all-the-time) you're treated with a certain.... anonymity, or... well, as if you're not even there at all. 

Roughly 15 minutes later, into my bar walks this 6'4'' tattooed, well-muscled man (can't blame a girl for noticing) and immediately he walks up to the table in question and begins a semi-controlled altercation with the woman at the table. She excused herself, sat with the man (at the end of the table with a visibly uncomfortable business man and the rest of his employees) and they proceeded to have a full blown row. 

This ended abruptly with the woman and her date leaving and the tattoo'ed man looking as though his heart had been skewered and fed to him as one of our high end dishes. 

At this point, I had to go up and investigate and I was told this by the severely down-trodden muscle man: The girl, his long time LIVE-IN girlfriend, was caught by his good friend, the stalker-azzi table watcher, clearly on a romantic date with an unassuming innocent (well, maybe innocent.) To make matters worse, this guy was taking his live-in girlfriend to Mexico the next morning, to go to his sister's wedding, where, he intended at some point in the trip to propose to her. AND she had been texting him all night telling him she was far out in the tri-cities watching movies with her Mommy... 

Uh-oh.... bad girl.

 Now, as shocking as it was, I felt awful for this guy, as did the rest of the table of severely uncomfortable business people. Now enter the Boss. The Boss was the head of his small department working in an eco -conscious company (no more details) He intended to take his staff out for a good time, and clearly was out of sorts due to the severity of the drama that ensued from the friend of his employee. To make a bad situation... better (?) the boss began ordering rounds, upon rounds, of shots. 

Now, before you hastily judge that I may have blatantly over served this party... One thing as a server you learn is that although you can do your very best to manage people's intake of alcohol, that you are not people's mother. It is really not my problem if you can't handle your alcohol and you choose to order it.... I can only assist you in getting out of my establishment with as much dignity as possible, and make sure that if I can anticipate the drunkness, to do my best to steer you in a direction of NOT making a fool of yourself. 

 So as the night went on, the tattooed man took himself and his bleeding heart home, and I was left with the original group and their still uncomfortable boss... After considerable rounds (think more than 12) most of the party that had lingered was having a great time (occasionally yelling "Emeliooooooooooo" when they needed me) 

As I am doing the rounds, I look at Boss man, he looks drowsy, and in waitress speak, that means #1 you're cut off, #2 You should bring him a coffee or some food to sober up. After refusing food, I brought him a hot cup of joe, and I realized his condition had somehow deteriorated even further, and I knew it was time to wrap it up. Up over my shoulder I hoisted Mr. Bossman, 190 lbs of flailing, dead weight. I did my best to maneuver this man who was considerably heavier than I was.

 After making a harrowing journey I reach that back hallway that was attached to the restrooms and.... well... we didn't make it. Bossman proceeded to (with awesome skill) projectile vomit over everything in front of him [except me]. I placed him in the washroom and sought to sorting the now "chunky" hallway. Once the exterior situation was under (semi) control I enlisted my cast- iron stomach that comes with being the middle of seven kids and a lot of family pets, and I went in. And what I saw... I just... wasn't ready for. 

There, passed out on the bathroom floor was Bossman. Naked. 

Like... really naked. 

And on a side note, he had the STRANGEST body hair I had EVER seen. Like... shoulder pads and ... (I am going to spare you.... but it was so weird that its hard not to tell you about it)
 
While this was going on, his female employee came up and greeted me. This woman was the sweetest thing I have ever seen, maybe 5'2, 100lbs soaking wet. She came up to me, her timid little self, and told me she felt awful for me and that I shouldn't have to deal with this, and if I just let her, she'll go in and take care of her ailing boss. I couldn't let her... not after what I had just saw. She insisted, and I told her this: 

"Look love, what I have seen in there is something that not only he would die of embarrassment if he knew you saw, that you would never be able to look at him the same again if you did. I don't have to work with him every day, and I don't have to count on him to give me constructive criticism. So, go sit down, relax. and Let me do what I do, and take care of this."

 I felt she understood my point and she returned to her seat. So after the gathering shock, I composed myself and went in, again. Realizing in his stripping down that he had absolutely ruined the shirt he was wearing, I had to improvise. After retrieving and old sweater from the lost and found, I redressed him, got him on his feet and straightened him up. 

 I remember looking at him like a canvas of art.... It wasn't what I pictured... but it would work. So, the rest is fairly uneventful... I got him up, out and on with his life.... and have never seen Mr. Tattoo's or The Boss man since. 

 Moral of the story.... Going out and getting drunk is sometimes fun, sometimes messy, and always remembered (even if you don't remember it) 

 Until next time,

 In sobrietry, (for now)

 Emelia
 xoxox

Dear World, I am Tired

I woke up today, and guess what, world? I am tired.

I am tired of dragging myself out of bed two hours before I need to leave the house so that I have enough time to shave my legs and arm pits, to style my hair, and slather chemicals on my face to cover up the one that I was born with, because it is not beautiful enough.

I am tired of counting the calories in my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks to make sure I don't eat more than 1200 per day - you can't lose weight and get a flat stomach by eating too much.

I am tired of looking at my dog as he begs me to take him for his morning walk; but, I won't leave the house until the contouring paint is perfect - I don't want anyone outside to see how fat my face looks without it.

I am tired of going to the gym for two hours a day to make sure that I burn at least 700 calories so that people will stop calling attention to the way my back fat shows through my t-shirt or the way my muffin top is evident when I wear a shirt that actually fits.

I am tired of wearing baggy tops because I don't want people to think I am a "slut" if the shape of my breasts is visible. And, I am tired of making sure that the neckline of my shirt isn't "too low cut" for the same reason - I have to be a respectful young woman, don't you know? I also don't want to "attract the wrong type of attention", because this might cause someone else to misbehave.

I am tired of the look of disappointment on my partner's face when I go to bed early and tell him that "I'm not in the mood" because I don't feel like I can measure up to the "beautiful" "sexy" girls on the magazines or in the movies.

I am tired of the images and expectations that are being forced upon myself and young women across the globe that tell them that they are not, and never will be, good enough. You must dress this way, you must wear your hair like this, you have to have a great smile, etc. This is unrealistic.

Something  has to change. The media no longer tells us we need to be skinny to look good, they tell us it's for our own health, to be fit… "this is what your body should look like." Right… It's the same message: you, as you are, are not good enough.

World, I am worried. I am worried that this is just going to get worse. It needs to change, NOW! I am only 23 years old; I have a long time left on this planet, but I am already too tired. I can't continue to live my life this way, or I will melt into exhaustion.

We need to make a change. We need to educate young women, and men, in regards to the effect that the media and cultural expectations and ideals have on us. We need to support our youth, and tell them that they ARE beautiful, they ARE good enough. They do not need to change who they are to be accepted. However, just saying this to your son/daughter/partner/friend is not good enough: you have to believe in this and accept it yourself.

It begins with us, and, hopefully, in the future,  we will be able to live our own lives and not the lives that others thrust upon us. Hopefully, one day, we can stop taking caffeine pills and wake up all on our own.

Yours in this relentless race to perfection,

Ashley