Change is coming. Hard…
Last night, something shook the hell out of me.
I work 6 nights a week. That’s every night but Sunday. It’s tough, stressful work. The kind of job where you EARN every dollar. I’ve been there four months and have witnessed Tower Bar’s birth. It’s starting to boom. We get a great clientele and I’ve suddenly bounded into a rather silly income bracket. I have a college degree and drop food in front of people’s faces. Did I mention that?
But I found out last night (Tuesday) that Tower Bar absolutely needs me. I feel like I could garnish the asparagus puree with my vitamin-rich urine and not get fired.
I was invited to a very important dinner with a friend on Wednesday and had to leave early. I told our director (who is a service legend around the world and could quite possibly have been a loveable Hitler in a previous life--whatever that means) that I would have to leave early…and he had a Russian panic attack. Really. I’ve come to the realization that in this business…a good runner is difficult to find. And I’m solid. Not great, but solid. That’s as far as I’ll go. Others may speak different tones.
But after everything…the planning, the guilt (which you wouldn’t think would exist after someone works 13 straight days--it did), and the pleading…the dinner fell through. So, the fuss was completely unnecessary.
But my friends, the damage has been done.
I’m leaving Tower Bar. It’s a secret, but November 19th is my last day.
My rationale? Well, I was talking it through with our darling pastry chef tonight at work (who by the way, is also busting out of Dodge). I started to explain how I like my job. I’ve always liked my job. In a lot of ways, I like everything about it…and it’s going to be really sad when I leave when...
“Dude, commitment-phobe…popping up again. It’s kind of obvious.”
“What? I’m talking about work? What are you talking about?”
But she leaves. Crazy girl. Like she knows. And the wheels start spinning. Work-girlfriends…girlfriends-work. Suddenly, I’m adding a little extra punctuation on my mental notes. Something along the lines of, Crazy Girl???
We meet in May. I like the looks of the place. It’s gorgeous. Stunning. So I climb on board. I learn as I go, having NO previous experience in any restaurant…not to mention the highest of ends. But I learn, I adapt. I give it a shot…and things seem to click. I’m good to the restaurant, and the restaurant is good to me. Everyone says that once we get reviewed, the biz will double…triple. There is going to be this great prize waiting. Uh oh. You see that? You see where this is going?
Stay with me…
So time passes, we have our ups and downs. We drive each other crazy on the busy nights…mentally and physically exhausting nights…now coming six days a week. And it’s rough, but at the end of every night, I leave with a smile on my face.
Last week was our biggest ever. Things have supposedly finally clicked. I get my big prize…a promise fulfilled. I walk with a pocket of Bens. Everything is great, right? Um…
Suddenly, I’m feeling a lean. It starts slight…and just keeps growing. Oh wait. Here come the phone calls. Wait? Didn’t I just screen your call 20 minutes ago? Why are you calling back? Oh wait…no room. Uh oh. Why are you making me cynical? I’m not a cynical person. You NEED me to be here? You want to RELY on me?
Sorry. You’re really sweet, but no can do.
Maybe there are a few parallel lines running through there. Fine, many.
So I start to think. Not that I ever stop, but you know what I mean. I miss seeing the sun go down. The freedom of being untied for those magic 35 minutes…my greatest indulgence in life. I’ve been giving it up for the past 4 months.
And it’s no one’s fault. Like I said, it’s going to be a sad day when I walk from the Tower Bar…
But it’s not love…and that almost says it all.
Almost…
Every day that passes, I feel one day closer to dying. If you want to know EXACTLY what I’m feeling, that’s it.
And not everyone is born with that. Without it, where would I be? Not here. Not chasing this. I’d be someone else, somewhere else, something else…and I’ll pass on all three. Nothing trumps this. Five years from now, ten years from now…what can trump this? Every new minute of this life, that’s the question we should all be asking.
So I’m moving on…moving out. December 1st, I’m moving into a new apartment. One that slopes against the side of LA’s in-between canyons. Something tucked behind the trees. Smaller, tighter. Something that’s more…me. There are places in LA that feel thousands of miles away. I’ll find one.
Great is coming.
Can you feel it?
