28. Waiter Rant

Thanks For the Tip - - Confessions of a Cynical Waiter
by Steve Dublanica

I have never waited tables so I can't say that I know what its like, but after reading this I have a pretty good idea. And you know what? Its not much different from working in retail, which is what I do. Dealing with the public as a service professional is a trip!!

Being a waiter was not what Dublanica set out to do. He chose to live the life of a cleric and went to seminary for that purpose. When he became disillusioned with that he finished college and became a psychiatric worker. The company he worked for went out of business and his brother, already a waiter, helped him get a job to tide him over until he could find something in his field. He wound up staying in the profession for years.

This book started out as a blog with the same name that Dublanica started to let people know the true behind the scenes adventures in an upscale restaurant. The jockeying for power among the waitstaff, what really happens in the kitchen, the dedication of the undocumented workers who keep the place running. And lets not forget the customers. The rich, entitled customers who will stop at nothing to get what they want. I could relate way too much.

On the personal side, Dublanica deftly relates the toll that servicing the public can take on your personal life (and your person). Staying in a career way longer than you should have. Seeing your peers and friends move further along in life and salary. (Making 1/3 of what your friends make can be a bummer on your social life, let me tell you.) Reading the part near the end when he has finally had enough did a number on my mood for many days afterward.

I recommend it for anyone who has ever worked, eaten in , or driven by a restaurant. The tips at the end on how to conduct yourself as a patron is priceless. Stop sniffing the corks people! That is pretentious and doesn't prove anything about the wine! Oh, and do waiters really spit in your food? Read the book and find out.

27. Wife of the Gods

by Kwei Quartey

Great book by a first time novelist. Wife of The Gods is a mystery set in a small village in Ghana. A young female med student is murdered in Ketanu on her way home from distributing information about AIDS. Her murder is pinned on a local boy widely thought to be a troublemaker. Darko Dawson, an investigator in Accra, is called in from the big city to help solve the crime. When the Chief of Police, who resents having him there, is convinced that it is an open and shut case, Dawson must continue to pursue the truth on his own.

Its not easy finding the truth in a village that carries cell phones, but still puts a lot of faith in the powerful medicine men who have connections to the case. Further muddying the case is Dawson's own past and his family currently living in Ketanu. It turns out his own mother went missing from the village when he was just a boy.

I plan to make more of an effort to read more novels on contemporary Africa and this mystery is a wonderful start to that. If you like The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, you will like this also.

A Pedestrian Story

I am a pedestrian. I never learned how to drive. The year I was supposed to take Driver's Education in school was the year that the D.C. Public School system didn't have money in the budget for it. Right after that, while I was away at college, my mother's car was stolen and she never replaced it. So there was nothing for me to drive when I came home. Anyway, year after year went by, and I just never learned. Not a big deal.

But I live in Atlanta. And this city isn't kind to pedestrians. The sidewalks in some areas are in horrible state and in a lot of residential areas, there are no sidewalks at all! Yes, in the city limits. No sidewalks. Drivers don't care about this. They look at us like we are crazy for walking in the street! Sometimes they give you dirty looks as they walk by. Or they will drive close to the side and try to force you to hop on the curb. For those people I carry my grocery bag in the hand facing the street ready to slam it into the side of their cars! (I am not getting on the muddy curb in my suede Pumas!)

Every day when I leave work I walk the same route to the Marta train station. I use a back street in the affluent Buckhead station that runs between a hotel currently under renovation and an empty lot full of trees. (They were supposed to be torn down for condos and are all marked with a hideous "X". The recession has stopped that development, thank God, and the trees remain.)

In the 8 or 9 years or so that I have walked this route, hundreds of cars and trucks have passed me by. Sometimes a brother will blow his horn in (I guess) appreciation. (Which is nice, but if you really want to appreciate me, give me a ride.) They pass me when I am struggling with my groceries, or my umbrella when I get caught in a storm so strong that I am soaked through by the time I get to the station. They pass me when it is freezing and the road (which is all downhill) is a sheet of ice and I am trying not to bust my ass. They pass me when it is so hot that I am taking baby steps hoping that I don't pass out from dehydration. A couple of times people I know have driven by and waved and kept on going.

But today as I am walking along listening to my i-Pod and checking my e-mail on my cell phone, I noticed a late model Mercedes Benz slow down beside me. It stops a few feet in front of me and I see an older Caucasian woman, a scion of an old moneyed Buckhead family, no doubt, roll down her window. I take my earphones out and prepare to give her directions where ever she needs to go (what else could she want?).

And then I hear her say: "Do you need a ride? I'm going straight down to the Marta station."
I was so taken aback that I just said, "No, thank you, this is how I get my exercise". (Which is true.)

Maybe she is a customer of the bookstore and recognizes me from there. Maybe she was entranced by my bright yellow shirt and purse and wanted to share in the sunshine. Maybe she wanted to kidnap me and put me to work in her mansion.

I don't know, but it was the nicest part of my day. (That's me in the picture.)