My Debt Story

I just watched the documentary "Inequality For All". It's basically Rob Reich (former secretary of Labor under Bill Clinton) discussing and explaining the growing income inequality and how we got here.  He's a professor now (amongst other things) and the film is framed by different sessions of his lectures in this auditorium filled lecture hall at U.C. Berkeley.  The film ended on a uplifting note with him, saying "I believe in you."

When he said that, I started weeping.  The film is good, very informative, and I would recommend it to anyone who is curious about income/wealth inequality (It's on Amazon Prime right now), but it wasn't life changing information.  It was just another film trying to explain how screwed the system is.  

So, I'm sitting there crying after this guy who I have barely heard of (I probably saw him on the Daily Show at some point) tells me that he believes in me.  WTF??  Dana came over and patted my back and asked me if I'm ok.  I have no idea why I was sobbing into my shirt.  So I took a shower.  I got out of the shower still not knowing why I was so bummed out, so I'm going to use this post to try and figure it out, in the best way I know how:  Storytelling.  

My debt story starts probably around the time I started working.  I worked the concession stands at the little league baseball fields in Southaven, MS.  I then worked at Schlotsky's, Wal-Mart, Lakeshore UMA (church camp), Domino's, a brief stint as a youth group director, and then back into the restaurant industry. At one time I held down 3 jobs averaging 65-70 hours a week.  As of writing this, I have been in the work force for roughly 15 years, with only a few weeks/months where I was looking for work (when I moved to Seattle, when I moved back home from Wabash). In those 15 years I have managed to save roughly..... ZERO dollars.  I worked so I could spend.  I had a book of DVD's (thanks to the $5 bin at Wal-mart) Xbox, big TV, and would do whatever I wanted with my money.  I didn't want to save it. In my head, saving meant not spending, and spending money happened to be my favorite thing to do.  

When it came time to choose a college, I chose Wabash College.  It was pretty expensive, but when I visited campus, it felt right, and if you know anything about me, feelings reign supreme.  So what did we do so that I could go there?  We did what anyone else does who wants to go to a school and didn't get a full-ride scholarship does:  get a student loan.  One loan lead to two, two lead to three, and so on and so forth.  I also discovered that if you requested a private student loan you could ask for more than just tuition, so I added the price of a new computer into the cost of the loan.  I didn't even look at interest rates or repayment terms, deferment options, or anything of that nature.  All I knew was that I needed this money to go to school, and this was the way to get it.

I want to go back in time and just slap 18-22 year old Sam (and maybe tell him to buy stock in Apple, Google, and Amazon)

After 2 years, I transferred to University of Memphis.  Memphis State.  Tiger High.  It was time to come home.  I was excited because my best friend was also moving back home and transferring to UM.  We got an apartment in Hernando, and life was good.  This was one of the first times I had bills to pay.  So I had to start figuring that out, but it was pretty easy since our rent was cheap, and I was working a lot.

I did this thing in college where I would do pretty well one semester, and the next semester I would not go to class.  At one point, twice a week here was my schedule:

5AM:  open Lil Eccletic on Harbortown on Mud Island
9AM: Class
11ish-  Go home, let the dog out, shower, maybe eat.
1PM: Class
3PM: Class
5PM: Work at Corkscrew Wine & Spirits
10PM: Close down the shop, go let the dog out, go out with friends or go to my girlfriend's house.
12-1AM:  crash.

So the probability that I showed up to that 9am class was REALLY low. The fact that I don't even remember which class that was tells you; I definitely failed that one.  I also would develop a insane case of procrastination when it came to final papers.  Like, I wouldn't start to actually write them until the day after they were due.  Come finals time I would pull all-nighters, and start and finish 3 different papers within a 48 hour period.  The quality of those papers were just about what you would expect from a sleep deprived 20 something year old barista cracked out on red bull and an ungodly amount of black coffee.

It turns out that the University of Memphis doesn't really allow you to continue to suck at school.  When your GPA dips below a certain point, you get an Academic Warning.  This means if your GPA doesn't increase to a certain level, then you will go on Academic Suspension.  That means you can't take classes at UM for a semester, and you might have to go take some classes at another school in order to improve your GPA and then re-apply to the Memphis.  This whole process was called "Academic Probation"

My GPA would bounce back and fourth,  I got 2 Academic Warnings.  After the first one, I took less classes that semester,  knocked out some easy classes (A+ in Golf!) and got my grades up above the required level, but I was still on academic probation for a year.  Well the next semester I did terrible, and got another warning, and then followed that semester with an equally bad semester.  Hello Academic Suspension...

So before all that, my loan servicers (Sallie Mae, AES and Wells Fargo) would send me balance summaries or bills, or delinquent notices just about every few weeks.  It was a mixture of "HEY! YOU OWE US!" Or "HEY, YOU'RE GOING TO OWE US!!"  I would say that I opened about 1 in 5  of those letters in the mail, and phone call wise, I would answer 1 in 10 phone calls.  I would get angry on the phone with them, tell them to leave me alone, and hang up.  The most ineffective strategy to get out of debt possible:  IGNORANCE.

So back to being suspended.  I took some time off from school and moved to Seattle to intern with Jeff Bettger at Artist Reformation.  I found a good job, met Dana Jill, got married, went into management.  I started making a lot of adult decisions during this period of my life.  Once I was out of school for 6 months all of my loans began the repayment process.  This meant that the phone calls and letters amped up, and became truly overwhelming.  I opened all the letters this time, answered all the calls.  This time I wouldn't get angry with the person on the other end of the phone; I would get angry with myself.  I developed a pattern where I wouldn't think about how much debt I would just go on living my life, paying what I could, and going late or delinquent on the rest of them.  This strategy was also not very effective,  because I couldn't maintain.  When I would total up how much I owed, I would get depressed, angry, and hopeless.  I didn't want to feel any of those emotions, so I would just do what I could, when I could, and that's all there was to it.

I would tell Dana that we will basically be in debt until I was dead.  This is not a very encouraging thing to say to your wife.  It's also a childish thing to believe.  That statement was both ignorant and immature.  It basically means, "I don't know how to solve this problem, and I don't care enough to try and figure it out or ask for help".  When THAT reality set in, I was shaken to the core.  I'm a grown-ass man.  I solve problems all the time.  This was just another really expensive, really complicated problem, that I needed to strategize and attack.  So I woke up.

I made the first spreadsheet that I still update to this day.  It's title is "Financial Slavery." It has every bit of information from my loans possible.  Interest rates, due dates, deferment/forbearance options, accrued interest, who owns it, is it late? How late? I look at this spreadsheet once a week, update totals, and celebrate the small wins.

Celebrating small wins is KEY in this strategy because they come so rarely.  2 years ago I consolidated 8 different loans into 2, last year I finally paid my car loan off, and in 2 weeks I am absolutely overjoyed to say that the first of my 10 loans will be completely paid off.

So to wrap this all up and make some sense out of the tears that were streaming down my face, there is this:  As much as I can research how totally screwed up the student loan/college tuition system is in this country (and it absolutely is 1.2 TRILLION dollars in student debt and college tuition has increased over ~260% in the past 20 years) my overall realization is that, in my case, there is only one person that is to blame.  ME.  Sam Hatch.  I am the one who sought out the loans.  I am the one who went to school for way too long, didn't take it seriously, and didn't realize how much money I borrowed and wasted.  Im the one who got kicked out of school.  I am the one who didn't make payments.  I am the one who still has not saved a single penny.

So maybe I was crying as a way of mourning the last hints of ignorance that I had towards my own debt situation.  Maybe I was crying because I am inspired to do better, be better, and get out of debt.  Or maybe someone was just cutting onions near by.  Whatever it was, I want you all to know this.  I am 29 years old.  I have a good job, a good wife, and a good life.  I am so in, 5 digits worth of, student loan debt.

That 5 used to be 6.  My credit rate has continued to improve over the last 12 months.  My debt does not define me.  It doesn't hold me back from being the man that God wants me to be.  It is just another problem that I am, continuously, looking for better and better solutions to.  When I read that there is 1.3 trillion dollars in student loans debt, I was both amazed and comforted.  I am not alone.  I want everyone out there that is struggling to pay Navient, or Sallie Mae, or whoever else, know that you are not alone.  Your debt does not define you.  Sure it makes life a little tougher, but you CAN make it through.

Dana Jill is the editor of almost all of my posts.  I have a serious tense shift problem and my grammar isn't the best.  After proofing this entry, before posting, she told me, "It makes me feel safer that you are actively pursuing getting out of debt.  I felt like your attitude before was 'it'll all be fine' and you were just ignoring the problem."  This is what it's all about.  I needed to grow up and address the issue.  My wife feels safer; I feel more responsible and less defeated.

I am on track to being completely out of debt in the next 8-10 years.  Don't ignore it.  Tackle it head on and don't forget that you are not alone.

I Almost Died Vol. 2

The first car that was ever fully mine (not shared with my mom like the purple intrepid) was a gold 2001 Ford Explorer.  A few weeks into driving the explorer, I was on my way to give blood.  I took a left turn and got hit in the front and it spun me around.  Nothing crazy traumatic; They were speeding.  No one was harmed; they were trying to blame me for dents in their hood on the opposite side of where they hit me.  It ended up being their fault (I think), and I ended up giving blood later that week.  That's not the incident I wanted to tell you about today.  The next time I almost died was a few years later.

I lived in Cordova, TN with a few friends and I was working at Republic Coffee in Memphis.  At this point I had mostly opening shifts which means I was charged with the distinct pleasure of waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning to caffeinated midtown Memphis.  My drive to work was normally about 30-40 minutes depending on traffic, and mostly all on this interstate.  I had to be at work at 5am to open up at 6.


This was during the winter, and normally Memphis winters are cold, but not crazy cold and everyone loses their minds when it snows because it happens so rarely.  This was an icy morning, so I was taking it slow on the way to work (I learned my lesson!). Even though waking up at 4 was part of my regular routine, I had a tendency of staying up too late.  In fact, sometimes when I got to work, I would turn the espresso machine on, brew coffee, count the drawer, unlock the door, and lay down in a booth and take a short nap because it was rare that anyone came in before 6:30 and the sound of the squeaky door normally woke me up. So I was easily 3/4 asleep on this particular drive at 4am.  I was heading west on I-40, and there was only a handful of cars on the interstate.

Up ahead of me on the right was a car going as slow as I was.  This section of I-40 was 4 lanes.  I was in the middle left and the other car closest to me was in the middle right minding our own business when, on my left, another car, who for some reason, was flying down the icy interstate at 4 in the morning passed us both.  It startled me, but nothing crazy yet, just your run of the mill asshole nothing to worry about.

A few miles down the road I notice something strange, and sure enough, It was our friend from earlier. He was in the left lane spinning around (very similarly to how I was spinning in the last story).   So I start to slow down even further, however the car ahead of me on the right decided to speed up and get over to the furthest right lane to avoid the guy on the left.  Poor choice... They start to spin out in the far right lane.

So at this point, I'm going about 30 mph, and gripping my steering wheel like somehow, that's going to help me get through this safely.  I can't remember what I was listening to, it was probably Tenacious D or Saul Williams or something loud so I would stay awake on the way to work.  Either way, I am wide eyed, death grip on the wheel, and I just slowly drive past both cars spinning on either side of me.  It all happened so fast and I was not fully awake so it was one of those moments where I didn't even think about what to do and just defaulted to hold on, take it slow, and hope that neither car comes out of the spin to crash into my car and kill everyone involved.

Both cars continued to spin for almost the whole time I could see them in my rear view mirror.  Needless to say I have never been more wide awake for the drive to work in my entire life, and I definitely didn't take a nap when I got into work.  I lived to barista another day, and all was well.

Whew.... I got anxiety just writing about that.

Have you almost died on the road?  Leave a comment below!  I want to hear about it.

A couple of questions

So, I have 2 questions.  These question is from the entire restaurant industry to anyone who has ever done this:

Let's say a restaurant has 20 pristinely clean, empty and ready to be sat tables.  In the smack dab middle of those 20, there is one table with half empty drinks, napkins in the seats of the chairs, check presenter on the table, dirty silverware, and a dessert plate with a half eaten piece of pie on it.

First question:  Part A.  Why is the dirty table the most attractive table to sit at?  Even assuming this restaurant is a "seat yourself" type of place.  Why is that the table that you inevitably seat yourself at? and let's say the restaurant is not a "seat yourself" type of place, (Part B:) why do you seat yourself?  

This behavior consistently baffles me.  Of course as a manager I am dedicated to the guest experience.  So even when guests do this, I either clean the table myself, or send someone directly over to get it cleaned off and bring the table menus.  Hopefully they have a good time, and yes, we should have greeted them at the front door, and the table shouldn't be left dirty, but in the real world, some things get missed.  I'm just curious as to what draws people to the one dirty table in the middle of a room filled with clean ones.

Second Question:  Ok so, let's say there are 2 tables that are exactly the same distance from the door , window, bathrooms, same lighting, same position, they are right next to each other.  Why is it, when the host wants to seat you at one of the two identical tables, you say something along the lines of "Uh... Can we sit there" and point to the other table.  I can fully understand booth vs. table, window seat vs. non-window seat, inside vs. outside, not sitting by the bathroom, kitchen, or any high traffic door, not wanting to sit next to crying baby, or if you want to sit in a particular servers section.  Those requests are what I'm curious about.

You want to sit at the other table, that's fine, by all means, do that. There are very few instances that we won't make that happen for you (We need it for a reservation coming later) The question is WHY??? Here are some things you don't realize:  Maybe that server just got double sat, and you would make it a triple?  (Just have another server take the table). Well, if it was that easy it wouldn't be any trouble at all, however servers are a very territorial crew.  Even if you give 1 table from server A's section to server B, I'm going to hear about it.  OR the poor hosts are going to get barked at, and one of the main things you need a host to do is to smile, and it's hard to do that when you have a bunch of angry servers yelling at you.

Again like I said, I am going to try and do everything in my power to make sure that you have a great time at any restaurant that I am working, however these 2 behaviors genuinely confuse me, and I was hoping that someone out there had a reasonable explanation for them.

So, as you go out to eat this weekend, please realize that these behaviors are at the very least, slightly irrating and most of the time, quite frustrating.  Please avoid them at all cost.  Also know that if you do these things, it's not like we hate your guts or anything, it just that, you are making it a bit more difficult for us to take great care of you.

If you have an answer to any of the question I posed feel free to comment below, Thanks for reading.  

I Almost Died Vol. 1

Lately Dana and I have been experience some really insane traffic incidents where people bust a u-turn right in front of us from a dead stop and almost kill us or we get cut off in traffic, more so than the usual nightmare that is Seattle traffic.  That gave me the idea to tell you all about a few times that I almost died on the road.  So here we go, buckle up!  (Pun absolutely intended)

One of my first jobs was as a sandwich artist at Schlotsky's Deli in Southaven, MS.  I've got stories about that place that I should probably share before I forget but now is not the time.  I was 16 years old, and most of my friends worked at Domino's in Hernando, MS which was about 15-20 down the interstate.  I was a young driver and my parents didn't want me to drive on the interstate, especially when it was raining.  However, on this night the North Mississippi All-Stars were playing a show at the square in Hernando and all my friends were planning on being there, so I told them I'd meet them after I got off work.

Work ran late, so I hopped onto the I-55 south to get down there in time for the last half of the show.  It had started to rain right before I got off work; but it wasn't a bad storm so I figured it wouldn't be a huge deal.  Boy was I wrong.

I was listening to Speakerboxx by Big Boi and cruising down the interstate.  I was going below the speed limit, being cautious, and jamming out because that's a pretty sweet album.  There was a grandma in a grandma type of car, driving like a grandma in front of me.  Seriously going 40 on the interstate!  So I decide to pass her on the left.  I never used to believed it when people told me that the roads are always slicker when it's barely raining because the oil in the asphalt comes to the surface or something along those lines, but I absolutely do now.  I get over into the left lane, and go to pass her. This is a multi-lane interstate divided down the middle by a shallow grassy ditch of a median.  As soon as I get in the left lane and well ahead of the lady (I am going 50, the speed limit is 60 I think... Could have been 55) I hydroplane for the first time in my life.  When your car hyrdoplanes a they tell you not to turn the wheel or hit the breaks just take your foot off the gas and stay straight.  The thing is, I did none of that...  I hit the brakes, and try to get out of the hydroplane which puts in a full horizontal spin.  

<<I like the way you move.... I like the way you move...>>

So I am now spinning clock-wise to the right about to head off the road. When your car is spinning, they tell you to turn into the spin, don't hit the brakes.  The thing is, I did none of that.  I once again press on my brakes and turn the steering wheel to the left.  This somehow caused me to start spinning in the opposite direction, so I am now heading left in a spin.  My car spins into the grassy median, and I look up and all I can see is headlights of oncoming traffic

<<Yell out timber when you fall through the chop shop,  take a deep breathe and exhale...>>

a little light reading...

I wasn't quite into the lane of oncoming traffic, just at the top of the other side of the median.  My car immediately (miraculously) shuts off and roll backwards down to the bottom of the median.  I had such a tight grip on that purple '97 Dodge Intrepid's steering wheel that I remember my hands hurting afterwards.  I tried turning the key again to get it start a few times, no dice.  I also don't know anything about how a car works so I am screwed.  Luckily I lived in Mississippi where you can throw a rock and hit someone who knows how to rebuild a transmission in their garage or reads "How Small Engines Work" for fun in high school (I'm looking at you Joey Treadway).  There was an angel of a man who pulled his big ole pick up truck to the side of the road.  He yells out at me, "ARE YOU OK?" I yell back at him that I'm alright, but I can't get my car to start.  The next part is a blur, but we end up getting my car started somehow.  I turn the car off and put the car in neutral.  I get out and he helps me push it to the top of the median.  He says, "Alright son, when I say GO you smash the gas and get on home now ya hear?"  So I say yes sir,  he waits for traffic to clear and yells out GO so I hit the gas like he told me to.  I scoot on down the interstate; I get off at the next exit and take the back roads all the way home, driving like a grandma the whole way.  

I missed the show, and got home in one piece.  Also, this might be the first time you're hearing about this mom and dad, and so sorry I didn't tell you, I didn't want to lose car privileges, and ultimately everything worked out just fine, so no need to worry you!

Strangely enough I remember never being able to find that CD ever again.  Which I guess if you were going to lose something in a traffic incident like that, that's probably the best case scenario.  

Fear.

I have been thinking about fear lately.  I haven't been feeling like myself for a few weeks, and I realized that fear has been playing a big roll in that.  This is strange for me because in general, I'm not a super fearful person, and for the most part I'd say I'm comfortable being myself.  The past couple weeks have been different.

At first I thought it was stress, new job, new diet, bills, etc.  I tried to address those issues head on.  Scheduled payments, blogged about diet stuff, looked up recipes, started organizing and cleaning stuff at work (this typically always helps me clear my head).  None of which helped for longer than a day or so.  So I was floating through life in the midst of a gray cloud.  I prayed about it before getting out of my car to go to work one day last week and almost immediately as I walked in I realized what my issue had been.

fear

I was afraid of not being good enough, afraid I'd never get out of debt, afraid that my career is stagnating, afraid that I don't have what it takes to excel.  This was the mental cloud surrounding me.  This cloud caused me to keep most people at a distance, overly measure my words and behavior, and become paranoid that people around me were out to get me.  These fears caused me to tell myself lies that, if believed, would cause me to challenge my own idea of who I am.  I was really amazed at how deep I had allowed these lies to permeate my psyche; They were affecting my behavior and decision making.

 It's kind of like when I got glasses, the second time.  

The first time I was prescribed glasses was one week before I left for college.  I didn't have a super strong prescription.  It was just enough to go ahead and get them, after all, I was going to be 8 hours from home and going to a fancy liberal arts college, so better safe than sorry.  There wasn't a huge life changing ordeal like some of you went through when you finally got glasses (like finally being able to see the leaves on a tree)  It was just nice that I didn't get headaches after reading for a long time.  

Fast forward 7 years, 4 sets of frames (either lost or eaten by Lucie), and 3 different insurance changes, It was time for me to find an optometrist in Seattle that I liked.  My friend Hayley went to a place in Wallingford that she likes, and I trust her so I went.  This was the life changing visit I missed out on earlier.  

What Dr. Ono told me was to stop trying to read the chart and to just tell him what I saw.  Every single eye test I had taken in the past I had tried my hardest to "pass" it.  Turns out, it's not that kind of test.  So I just took a deep breathe, sighed and admitted to the doctor that the bottom 2 lines were just blurry spots and the 3rd from the top was only slightly better.  Turns out my vision was worse than I thought but I had spent many years compensating.  I needed progressive lenses.  It's not like I am blind as a bat; I had just learned to deal with the constant dull headache from reading a computer screen for a long time. It was a pain, a struggle, a distraction that I didn't even realize that I was dealing with anymore because it was just always there.  

I miss those sweet blue frames

I calmed down and stop trying to overcome these issues that I had been having, just long enough to admit that I needed help.  Help came, I got the correct prescription, and the headaches went away, I wanted to read more.  It was like a weight that I had forgotten that I was carrying was finally lifted.

My backpack was stolen out of my car last February, and my glasses were in there, so I currently don't have any glasses but that is a different issue.  Back to the situation at hand.

All of these lies and fears had me all twisted up to the point where I was constantly cloudy.  When I walked in to work that day, the skies began to clear.  Did I still have bills?  sadly yes.  Did I still have frustrations at work?  sure did.  None of my problems went away, but they didn't define me.  They didn't control me.  So God answered my prayer with truth and a reminder of who I am.  I'm his, he loves me, and he has put me in the world, in Seattle, at my job, in my community, for a reason.  I believe that reason is to help people.  It's a perfectly vague purpose to hold onto, because I can connect with it no matter where I am.  It's especially perfect for being in the service industry because when you get down to the basics, is literally serving others.

So to get out of this funk, I have been trying to help people more often, and as I'm writing this today, I'm feeling much better.  Now I just need to get a new pair of glasses.

So, fight fear with truth.  Have a fantastic week!

Crazy Carol and the Marine (and other excerpts from my novel that actually happened)

In November of 2015 I participated in NaNoWriMo, which is National write a novel in a month, month.  I got a random hankering to do it, and so 2 weeks before it started I still didn't know what I was going to write about, and then finally it struck me.  Write what you know... So I wrote my first draft of Confessions of a Restaurant Manager.  It's a fictionalization of my career where most of the characters represent someone I know or have worked with, names changed, and most of the events in the book actually happened to me.  It was really fun to write and eventually I will get around to editing and publishing.

Since it's almost the weekend, I thought I would share some of the funnier moments in the book. A few notes.  Anything said inside <<...>> is being sad by another person over a radio that's in my ear.  I changed pizza to burger for the book. I have barely started the editting process, so please excuse any grammatical errors, and for the storytellers out there I'm always welcome to feedback!  Both of these events actually happened to me, and I exaggerated very little in the retelling of each tale.  Here is Crazy Carol and the Marine:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking in is a short thin normal looking woman, brown hair, wearing a scarf, has money in her hand.  It’s crazy Carol!  Except at this point we don’t know that Carol is crazy.  She’s here to pick up an order of Lasagna to-go.  She pays and starts eying the gelato case.  She asks for samples of gelato (the Gelato case is brilliantly positioned right by the front door for this very reason).  I give her a sample of strawberry and of lemon while she’s waiting for Heidi to box up the lasagna.

“Oh my goodness, I’m in heaven, this is SOOO good.”

“Would you like a scoop?  I can put it in a container to go for you.”

Pretty normal so far….

“yeah I’ll take a scoop of each. How much are they?”

“$3 per scoop”

I scoop it out, put them in a to-go bowl and ring her up.  She hands me $3 crumpled up dollar bills.

“Alright, here you go, the total is  $6.57 after tax”

She calmly hands me 1 more crumpled up dollar bill out of the wad of cash in her hand and looks up at me.

“Ok, we’ve got $4 so far, I just need $2.57 more.”

She counts out $1.30 in coins and slides them over to me on the counter.   Looks up at me again.

“alright, almost there, just need a little more…”

“Oh nevermind, looks like I don’t have enough.”

“Well, that’s alright, I tell you what, I’m feeling good today; One scoop is on me! It’s already scooped up for you anyways!”

She then slowly starts to walk backwards towards the door.  Heidi comes up with her lasagna and is unsure what to do with it since Carol is walking backwards towards the door with a weird look on her face.  I look over at Heidi and with my eyes and a head gesture tell her to leave the lasagna up here, and I’ll take care of it.

Carol starts to wave her hands and shake her head and say, “No, no, No, that’s weird..I can’t, I just can’t”

I still have her money and lasagna in my hand.  I try to reassure her that it’s perfectly fine.

“it’s ok, I’m a manager here.  You enjoyed the gelato so much, I just want you to have it.”

“This is weird, I can’t….. I can’t…. no, no no”  Shaking her head waving her hands out in front of her.

“Well ok, umm… at least take your money back and you’ve already paid for the lasagna.  I’m sorry if I upset you.”  I slide the lasanga and the money to the edge of the counter.

She is at the front door now, turns towards the door and grabs the handle.  She quickly snaps her head back towards me and looks at the lasagna and her crumpled pile of cash and coins on the counter.  I step back from the counter with the gelato in my hand.

She then bolts for the counter, and grabs all of cash and her lasagna as if she’s stealing it and runs out the door.   Heidi and Erica are watching from afar.

<<What the hell was that?>>

<<I have no idea, I just tried to give her gelato since she apparently has problem with math or  not sure how money works or something….>>

<<I don’t think that’s her only problem…. Oh well hey, you should get out of here, I’m good to go.>>

I grab a lid for the Gelato.  I’m taking it home.  Free Gelato is free gelato, It’d be a travesty to let it go to waste!

Before I can step away from the host desk in walks a scruffy looking black dude wearing a big jacket and carrying a grocery bag filled with God knows what.  He makes a B-line to table 4.

“Hello Sir, How can I help you today?”  I “politely” yell as he barrels past me.

He mumbles something along the line of “It’s ok, I know these guys”

Table 4 is a 2-top.  Young couple, looks like they are on a date, enjoying their meal.  I make eye contact with the lady at the table since she looks up at this guy who is rushing to get to their table. They do NOT know him.   So I almost leap over the counter to hustle my way over to table 4 to try and diffuse the situation before it starts.

He makes it to the table; I’m one step behind him.

“Hey sir, how can I help you today?”

“I’m hungry.” As he is angrily pointing to their food.

“Oh ok, well I’m pretty sure they are enjoying that food, lets get you a table and a menu.”

I try to walk him over to a table far away from the young couple and grab a menu on the way.

He keeps pointing at their food as I am trying to gentle turn him away from table 4.
I open the menu, and try to point out some of my favorites.  We are about 3 steps away from the young couple at this point.  He’s not buying it.

“I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY”  he shouts as he starts to puff his chest out at me.

“You know what sir, that’s fine.  You’re hungry, and I’ve got a kitchen.  Lets get you a burger on me.”

At this point we are about 4 steps away from table 4 which as far as I could get him.   He starts pounding his feet and slapping his chest with one hand while he still holds onto his grocery bag.

“I’M A MARINE! I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY”

At this point, he’s standing as close to me as Kevin was to Heidi earlier and I can smell liquor, sweat, and general funkiness.   I am about 90% sure that he is going to swing on me.  So I start to bow my chest out, standing taller, planting my feet, and try everything to look like I could handle myself in a fight (which is totally not true, the last fight I got in was in middle school).

“Ok sir, You’re now causing a scene and I’m going to need to ask you to leave.”

“I’M A MARINE!” pounds chest.  I surprise myself by not flinching.  I am ready to get punched in the face.  He leans even closer to me, I stand tall.

“Sir, I don’t want to have to call the authorities, please leave.”

He deflates a bit and walks past me towards the door body checking me into a near by counter.  Tripping on chairs, tables and lastly the host desk on his way towards the door

“America is SHIT because of people like YOU” he shouts in between stomping more and hissing.  He throws the door open, give me the finger and runs out into the night.

I take a deep breathe, shake it off and calmly head towards table 4 to help them process what just happened.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

yes, this actually happened to me, both people in one night came in with about 30 minutes in between each incident. Next up, is another true story of one of the worst messes I've ever had to clean up.  You asked for this Jamison! Also a true story.  Another Note: in the story the Protagonist is named Andy, and that character is basically me.  Brian is Andy's Boss.  On this day in the story I was a mid manager who finds himself still there at closing time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

<<Hey Andy, what’s your 20?  We’ve got a situation in the bathroom.>>

I know I’m trying to stay positive, but at the end of a busy-ish Friday night those are not the words I want to be hearing.  I shouldn’t even be here right now, and I DEFINIETLY don’t want to solving any “situations” in the bathroom.  

<<Um… I’ll be right over>>

I make my way over to the bathroom.  I see Marvin over there shaking his head and holding his nose, Kevin has his face in his palm, and Brian has his ear to the bathroom door.  What am I walking into?

“Ok Marvin, tell Andy what’s going on over here”

“So you know the guy that comes in all the time carrying a plastic grocery bag with bottles of Sprite and sleeves of oreos?”

I’m know exactly who he’s talking about.  He makes just about everyone uncomfortable.  He isn’t all there mentally, but he’s cognoscente enough to come in to a restaurant and order.  He normally has enough cash to pay, so we let him come in.  He has a tendency to wander around the restaurant talking to all the little kids in the place which is what makes most of the staff uncomfortable, so we generally try to always seat him in the bar area so that this is less of a problem.  Strange fellow.  

“Oh yeah that guy… is he stuck in the bathroom or something?”

“He’s been in there for about an hour and a half.  He’s talking and singing to himself a lot and it smells like a dirty foot covered in road kill that got set on fire.  I want to die just standing near the stench”

Luckily my sniffer is still malfunctioning due to lingering effects from the flu or whatever I had.  

“So, what do you need me for?”

Brian comes over to the huddle.  “Oh, Hey Andy, can you stand here and make sure this guy is not dead?  Kevin and I need to start the closing duties.  I’m going to go check the kitchen out while Kevin starts counting money.  Let us know when he comes out.  If he doesn’t come out in the next 10 minutes we need to start knocking on the door and potentially calling an ambulance.”

“AN AMBULANCE?  You should call Ghostbusters because whatever it is that just left this guy’s body is going to haunt this place for years to come.”

“Marvin, let’s go do your cash-out.  Andy’s got this situation handled.”

How did I just get volunteered for weird-guy-stuck-in-the-bathroom duty?  Oh well.  Knowing Brian, he’ll probably buy me a drink or something on down the road to make up for it.  Jill is probably already asleep so I don’t mind staying; I just hope I’m not on the cleaning crew for this.

“The guy hasn’t paid his bill yet, I can’t cash out.”

“You know what, I’m going to comp his bill.  Judging by the sound and smell of it, this guy is having a rougher than normal night.”

Kevin and Marvin make their way to the back register to cash-out and start counting money.  I hear the guy starting to whistle.  So creepy.

KNOCK KNOCK

“SIR, ARE YOU OK IN THERE?”

“um…. I’m not to sure about that to be honest.  I seemed to have gotten some mess on my britches.  I have a spare pair in my bag, If someone could bring me my bag I really would be much obliged.”

I go grab his things, and I knock on the door again.  I hold my breathe just in case my nose started to work again.  He cracks the door and his long thin wrinkled fingers poke out and grabs the handles of the grocery bag from me and shuts the door behind him.  I hear the click of the lock on the door.   

“Doing alright in there sir?  We are closing up for the night.”  

“Well I hate to admit it, but I made a real mess in here my friend.  I’ve got these stomach problems you see, and something I ate must have just messed me up real good.  I tried to clean it up and I’m afraid I just made it worse.  These stomach problems.  They make for some really hard BM’s.  My doctor told me to stay away from cheese, it’s just so hard because damn near everything has cheese on it.  I haven’t had a BM in over 2 weeks now.  The last time I was on the toilet in my apartment, the toilet broke on me and my landlord refuses to come and fix it.  It’s rough I tell you, rough.”

Why he felt the need to tell me all about his BM history I have no idea, but wow, I learned way more than I bargained for.  I’m starting to smell the death that is inside that door and I can only imagine the “mess” that he has made.  I think about just leaving and letting Kevin deal with it.  I decide to stick around and stay the course; it’s already making for a great story. 

“Well ok sir, Don’t worry about the clean up, we’ll take care of that.  Why don’t you go ahead and come out since we are closing up for the night.”

“Are you sure?  I can stick around and help clean if you’d like and I haven’t paid my bill yet.”

“We took care of your pizza tonight sir, it’s our pleasure.  Don’t worry about the mess.  We’ll clean it up.”

He cracks the door open.  A giant poisonous wave of putrid stench escapes from the bathroom.  I use all of my energy and power to focus on not throwing up.  I force a half smile.  He emerges from the bathroom wearing a pair of ill-fitting sweatpants and he’s got his “messy britches” in the grocery bag.  He’s got socks and sandals on and his glasses are on crooked.  He looks like he’s been through hell and back.  I escort him to the front door.  The whole walk to the door he is recounting the tale of his doctor, the landlord and more nitty gritty details about his bowel movements that no one would ever want to know, but I guess it’s the only thing he can think to talk about on this awkward walk.  He thanks me for the meal, and apologizes some more.  

As soon as we get him out the door, I turn to Kevin and we paper-rock-scissors for who is going in there first.  He throws scissors and I go with paper.  I cover my mouth and nose and open the door to assess the damage.  

It looks like a port-o-potty at a music festival.  It’s such a mess that it’s genuinely confusing as to how he had this much inside of his frail old body, how it left him so vilolently, and how he made it out alive  The mess combined with the stench stuns me like tear gas at the WTO riots.  I immediately stumble out of the bathroom.  I absolutely cannot leave this mess for the morning cleaning crew to clean up, and I feel like it would be inhumane to ask anyone on staff to clean this up, so I swallow my pride and decide that I need to clean it up.  I go to the back and put on already used chef’s coat and apron and tie a clean rag around my nose and mouth like I’m robbing a train.  I’m not trying to get any of this guy’s mess on my clothes.  The toilet isn’t broken, but the dark brown water has overflowed onto the floor and for some inexplicable reason there is smear marks on the walls near the toilet.  The plunger and toilet brush are laying on the ground in the corner by the sink as if they were weapons that ran out of ammo.  The sink has soiled paper towels in it and the trash can has the same swear marks as the walls do.  I’m amazed that this guy only got “mess” on his pants, and that he didn’t slip and fall into it.  Round 1 goes to the mess.  I decide that I don’t have enough armor on for this battle.  I go to the back to get more aprons and rags.  I tie an apron around each of my legs and arms.  I put another rag on my head like a bandana.  I put on the long bright yellow kitchen gloves and cover those gloves with a pair of disposable gloves.  I grab the plunger and toilet brush out of the ladies room, a mop, a deck brush and a wire coat hanger, some bleach and a spray bottle filled with sanitizer.  It was like bringing a knife to a gun fight the first time I went in. Now I’m ready for round two.

I take a deep breathe and charge forward into the war zone.  I head straight for the toilet and I catch a glimpse of myself in the brown reflection from the toilet.  I start to laugh and that causes me to open my mouth.  I immediately throw up right on top of the already disgusting toilet.  I shake it off and start plunging away.  After about 12 good pumps of the plunger, I decide to change over to the metal coat hanger.  I unbend it so that I can try and shove it into the toilet hole.  I start stabbing away and I hear the water bubble.  I plunge a little more and I notice the water start to go down a little bit.  I roll the dice and try to flush the toilet again.  It doesn’t flush all the way down, but it doesn’t overflow either.  I step out of the bathroom for some fresh air and let the toilet water try and go down a bit.  I consider this round a draw, but I’m gaining momentum.  

I get a mop bucket and some bleach and I walk back in “liberally applying” the bleach to all the surfaces of the bathroom (I dumped bleach everywhere).  I start to to scrub the floor with the deck brush.  I take a break from scrubbing and start spraying down the walls with sanitizer.  I sprayed enough to get all the smears off the walls, the garbage can, and the sink.  I stick my head outside the door to breathe some bleach-fumeless air.  I’m not ready to give up this round.  I take a peak into the toilet and all the water and mess has gone down the drain.  The bowl is still covered in brown death, but at least it has flushed.  I kick the plunger on the toilet so that it will flush again.  It flushes with no trouble, so I start spraying the toilet down with sanitizer.  Before I’m ready to mop I take two buckets of water and throw them onto the floor  and walls to help get any remain crud off.  I mop up all the dirty bleachy water and call it a night.  I won, no one died, and the bathroom is no longer resembles a battlefield.  As I shed my armour in the back, Brian walks past. 

“How’d it go?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I used to have pictures of the mess that guy left on my phone, but I must have deleted them like an attempt to delete the memories of that guy's bowel movement history from my brain, and sadly the memories still remain but the pictures do not.  Probably for the best though. 

 I really should be editting this novel, but instead I'm considering participating in NaNoWriMo again this year, not sure what I'll write about, but something will come to me for sure.  

Cleaned up a worse mess?  Dealt with weirdos?  Let me hear about it below!  Hit that Follow button, and have a great weekend.  

Garry Potter: The Pup Who Lived

I've always had a dog or dogs in or near my life.  Pinky was our first dog, then came Chief, Honey (who became Steve) and Duke.  Those were all family dogs.  The first dog I owned after that was Carol.  Andrew (my best friend and roommate) and I adopted a german sheppard puppy and named her Carol.  Were we the best dog parents?  Probably not.   We loved her though.  She wasn't the smartest dog in the world, and she was goofy as all get out.  When we moved out we were both moving to places that couldn't accomodate a German sheppard so now she became a farm dog and is frolicking in a field in north Mississippi, happy as could be.

The next puppy to enter my life came accidentally.  I was working at Republic Coffee (RIP) and a clean, fluffy, adorable puppy with no collar was just wondering around the patio.  Those who know the area know that this is not a safe place for a cute little puppy to be roaming about.  I took her inside to everyone to ask if she was there's.  Nope.  So I took her home, put up posters the next few days and luckily no one responded to the posters because I immediately fell in love with this little nugget.   Luckily my roommate at the time (Lisa) was ok with living with this adorable little monster.

When it came time for me to move accross the country, I knew I wouldn't have time or money to keep her, so I diligently searched for a new home for Lucie.  Graciously my friends in Denton, TX (which so happen to be my first stop on the move to Seattle) agreed to love Lucie, so she found a happy new home.  Interestingly enough Lucie lives in Memphis again with Megan and Daniel and who just added a new beautiful human puppy to their family.

The picture I sent to Dana

So after 4 years in Seattle living in places that couldn't accomodate dog, we finally moved into the artist Reformation house and were determined to get a dog.  I say we, but I think I was probably more motivated than Dana.  So I started digging into the interwebs, visiting animal shelters, and watching puppy videos on YouTube.  One day I was at work, and was clearing my head from working on the schedule and so I was looking at adopt puppy websites.  KONA popped up.  I immediately took a picture of the computer screen and sent it to Dana with something along the lines of "OMG OMG OMG OMG".   The next day we were took Kona home from the Seattle Humane Society.

At the Artist Reformation house we had 7 people living there so coming up with a name for Kona was fun because for a few days we just kept throwing names around.  We finally settled on one of Dana and my original ideas of Garry Potter.  (Pizza was the 2nd place finish)

his best human friend Hannah

his best dog friend Mercy

Ever since then Garry has been a constant source of entertainment, love, 
kisses, frustrations, late nights, and having to buy more socks and underwear.  He has a best human friend and a best dog friend.  He is a super smart and really goofy little dude.  It's been a whirlwind for sure.  Garry is the first dog that I really felt was a part of my family and not just a creature that I was responsible for.  I think it's because sometimes I want to murder him for being such a little jerk, but I don't, because I love him.  We let him into our bed in the morning for family cuddle time. We put goofy costumes on him.  He's a member of a Canine Social Club.

One of my favorite things that he does from time to time goes like this:  I get home super late from closing the restaurant.  Out of our room moseys half-asleep Garry Potter.  Sleepily wagging his tail, he walks up to me, I pet his head, and then he turns right back around and gets back in bed with Dana (he sleeps up there until I put him in his own bed when I get home).   There is way more enthusiastic greetings that I get from him on a daily basis, but it's this one that sticks out in my mind.  This sleepy "hey, glad you're home.  I'm going back to bed now"  is the best for sure.

Did this post have a real point or deeper meaning?  Not really, I just love our dog.  Even if he barks at anything that moves outside our gate or has a humping issue at the dog park, or kicks me right in the nuts on occasion.

He's a pretty fantastic pup.  

86 wheat and sugar

So, since I mentioned dietary plans and willpower in my first post, I thought I'd write about Dana's and my new diet.  As you could guess from the title of this post, we are avoiding gluten and sugar.  I wrote a lot about my dietary history on the juice fast blog, but I'll summarize here.

I basically ate whatever I wanted to for the majority of my life.  I just about always had frozen pizzas and corn dogs in my freezer at my house.  I never read labels and, generally, didn't care about what was in my food.  I ate because I liked eating, and earned the belly that I have.  When I got married to Dana, all that changed.  She cared about nutrition, and cared about me.  So I started to eat better, and I started to cook more.  It was fun; I loved it.  Did I still eat the occasional corn dog?  Yes.

Well fast forward to 2015 - we find out from Dana's Naturopath that by eating gluten she is raising the amount of antibodies in her system and it's messing with her already messed up thyroid.  So Dana goes off of gluten, and I don't because my thyroid is just fine (I think, it feels fine I guess... What's a thyroid supposed to feel like?)

If any of you have had one member of your family (in my case half of our family) go gluten free, you know that it makes it a bit difficult to cook or go out to eat, especially if you love making waffles (or waffling other things... More on that in another post) and pies.  Oh how I miss pies. (see below) So here we are almost a year later, and I've decided to join Dana in the GF lifestyle.  Burgers with lettuce wraps, weird tasting baked goods, and quinoa for days!  I am going off of gluten out of curiosity and to make it easier for us at the grocery store.  Sugar is a different story.

pumpkin pie with cream cheese 

Pie Day 2016

 Peach Strawberry Pie  

Dana read a book on how sugar is basically the devil.  There's a lot of really interesting science that I don't remember but it's basically the cause of most headaches, most diabetes, a lot of skin irritations, global compression (which really messes with your blood vessels), inflammation and plaque build up in your arteries, and many many more crazy issues.  We're avoiding sugar in foods, candy, desserts; basically anything that is fun.  We agreed that the occasional adult beverage is ok, which is great news.

SIDENOTE: I do understand that eating gluten and sugar in a "normal" amount is not necessarily unhealthy, however I believe that the standard "normal" American diet probably involves more gluten and sugar than your body is supposed to get.  So I guess for me this is a lesson in being mindful of what I put in my body.

The little cynic in me says something along the lines of "Oh GREAT! No gluten, no sugar, what's next? No caffeine?  Bye bye coffee.  No red meat?  No meat of any color?  Fast forward 2 years and you'll be living in a forrest gnawing on sticks because that's the only thing you'll allow yourself to eat.."  However my inner cynic is a real buzz kill, and I know that ultimately I'll wind up healthier for cutting back on sugar and gluten.

 One of the reasons why it's hard to go off gluten is the convenience.  We are just having to find alternative "edible plates".  A lot of food with gluten in them are what I consider to be edible plates.

Zucca e Porcini from D'Attilio in Naples, 

Pizza:  Most of you are not really there for the crust!  You want to eat the toppings!  Here, we'll put yummy toppings on a plate you can eat!

Quiche: a giant omelette inside an edible plate

Burgers:  You really want all the yummy beef and whatever other awesome cheesy delicious toppings that are in middle.  We'll put it in-between 2 edible plates so that your fingers don't have to get dirty when you're shoving food into your mouth hole.

Burritos/tacos/quesadillas:  who wants to eat just a bowl of meat, cheese, rice, salsa, onions, avocado etc.  Let's throw all that into an edible plate, roll it up, throw it in some aluminum foil and hand it to you out of a truck!

So far it's been over a week and I'm not feeling super different, I have had the occasional gluten, but for the most part I've been good and we've cooked some really great meals!  We had breakfast tacos using portobello mushrooms as the taco shell, mini-meatloaves, and stuffed mini sweet peppers. That's just to name a few. When facing a change like this, I typically like to jump on tracking improvements weighing myself daily, before and after pictures and what not, however, this time, I'm just not super motivated to.  I am paying more attention to how my body feels, Do I have more energy?  Am I happier?  How's my skin look? I know that I'm going to shed a few pounds, but the real point is that Dana and I will be going through this together.  We're going to learn, cook, and dine together more intentionally, and get healthier while doing it.  Wish us luck.

If you have any recipes, ideas, questions, comments don't hesitate to leave them below, on facebook, or text me if you have my number.  Have a lovely week.

Stay Tuned:  Next up- Garry Potter: The Pup Who Lived