Everybody, thanks for reading about the ‘No’ Lady. Hope you enjoyed it. I’ve got a mini-catalog of Customer Types ready to go. My MO is mainly to trot them out when a prime example crosses my path, so the whole thing is fresh in my mind – like the ‘No’ Lady. Instead of a rough character sketch, I’ll be able to give some cut-from-life details, some smelly emotions.
On to today. A marginal 4-table shift at Michael’s. Fortuntately, I was able hit for a high slugging percentage and walked with $99. Four-top ordered nicely, $249 check left $55. Two-top enjoying glasses of White Zin, $20 tip. A guy who should be a VIP was treating his chiropracter – a pretty blonde woman – to lunch: $149 check, $30 tip. A two-top featuring a Forty-Yard-Fake-Out woman (looks HOT at forty yards, but up close you see she’s out of shape, not athletic, and the face is older and not so great) showing off her knowledge of Michael’s for a handsome younger guy who was probably an assistant she’d like to fuck (ASLF). $12 on $60.
Short break between shifts to spend an hour working on the screenplay. Got some nice things straightened out regarding the science and logistics of what I’m laying out. The play is laid all out. I’m fine-tuning right now in preparation for a run at a first draft. My method is to outline a plot, read it and make notes about it, then re-outline based on the notes. Repeat, and again. I’m now to the point in the screenplay where it’s pretty solid what’s going to happen; why it all happens is pretty much accounted for; and my characters aren’t having conflicts with the previous two elements. So I’m going to let ‘er rip with a draft of the ‘real’ screenplay. We’ll see what happens from there. Wish me luck. BTW, I have written screenplays before; this is not my first attempt.
Carney’s was a wasteland tonight. It was rescued only by Dory’s co-worker from her other serving job showing up. That was a $53 tip for two diners. Dory and I walked with a mere $65. Otherwise, it was very slow. Unfortunate because yesterday saw the restaurant filling up – surely a $200 night. These are the economic times.
Vicodin-Boy (Frank the Bartender) was his better self, but towards the end he tried to tell Dory and I a story about how his bank was no longer denying debit card transactions above his account balance, instead honoring the transaction and charging over-limit fees. He almost choked on his tongue – he got so worked up.
It was either a few recently-swallowed Vicodins kicking in, or else he couldn’t handle the pressure of telling a story he hadn’t rehearsed a few hundred times. Frank is that kind of bartender/server. We all are to a degree, but he’s the worst. Once the soundtrack starts with him, it goes all the way through. Someone mentions dogs, in any context, and they will be treated/subjected to an etched-in-granite 10 minute soliloquoy about the 9-litter Portuguese Sheepherder (or whatever they were) saga he and his wife went through . . .
He’s a tight ass, too. But tonight when I asked for my shifter (we’re actually informally allowed two), I only asked for a half martini. So he poured me Hendrick’s, my fave gin, top-shelf and usually not on the shifter roster. Tasty.
Steak salad and a martini at home and the Lakers handled the Suns pretty easily. I’m happy and tired.