Consumer

Two-three years ago, Golden was in town visiting Kortney and the three of us went to the Shore House diner in Long Beach. I remembered it since then (it's located in the Belmont Shore neighborhood which has become such a string of douchebaggery over the last few years, I tend to avoid it). And I think what I remember most about that place during that first visit is the waiter guy. I think he was Hispanic because he had a thick Spanish accent but he had green/gray eyes, maybe middle-aged, and I remember him because he was incredibly nice to the three of us. I mean, neither Golden nor Kortney nor I are high maintenance customers but at the same time, I felt like my patronage was appreciated.

Years ago, before our trip to Philadephia and Seattle, Golden and I went to the mall for things to wear. And I remember very clearly we went into the Gap store despite my own reservations so Golden could get something. At the register, the girl took what Golden was buying and started ringing her up. The cashier did not once say hello and she did not make eye contact until, Golden, seeing what was happening, courteously but audibly said hello to the cashier.

Recently, Corey and I have been going places that unfortunately remind me more and more of the latter example than the former. And then it made me think yesterday, as Corey and I left Basix in West Hollywood, as I'm typing a quick complaint email, as to whether or not I'm a demanding customer.

I think at restaurants, when I order and I don't like what comes - either because I don't like it, or because I order something familiar sounding but is not what I want - I'm willing to chalk that up to adventurous ordering. When I go places I've never been with people who have, of course I ask what's good. And everything is up for grabs except seafood and curries. Most recent example was at the aforementioned Basix. Corey and I went for breakfast after church service and I ordered huevos rancheros and the plate was disappointing in size and flavor. Not sure how that's possible on supposed eggs sunny side up. But that's fine: I knew I would probably not like it and I stuck with it.

What puts me off more than bad food choices (and even bad food) is the service. Yesterday, we took a bit to place our order. We always do and the servers always keep coming back and I wonder how frustrating that may be for them. The service sector is about turnover right? So, we finally placed our order and the guy who was our waiter suddenly stopped coming. He didn't even bring our food out; someone else did that so where was our waiter? He didn't come back until Corey stopped him to ask for water and syrup. And then he returned when it was time to pay. I asked Corey whether or not he was going to leave a tip for the waiter because I was not.

Of course, it always reminds me of Mr. Pink in Quentin Tarantino's RESERVOIR DOGS. And then Mr. Blue asking Mr. Pink if a waitress taking him out back and giving him a blow job would be enough to garner a tip. Anyway...

I've been to two places Corey's suggested and the service has been, in my honest opinion, abysmal. As I mentioned before, it wasn't the food that put me off, or even the highly pretentious atmosphere at the other place, Rocksugar in Century City, but rather the terrible waiters we've had. Corey's mentioned he's okay with that because the ambiance and food are what he's there for. That's what people do, I think. So why do I even bother going out to eat anywhere? To be fair, Corey and I went to the Pho Cafe in Silver Lake and while the food wasn't what I was expecting, the guy who served us was pretty awesome so I would definitely go back there and try something else.

It leads me to ask this question about me: am I too demanding a customer?

I've often said I wouldn't ever work in the food service industry precisely because of people like ME. Why is that? Do I expect too much? What do I really want? If it isn't the food nor ambiance, then what is it I go places for? To berate the waitstaff once it's out of earshot? Hm,

Which also reminds me of Mr. Pink when he goes on to describe how many times his cup of coffee must be refilled in ratio to the time he's spent at the table.

My odd expectations at restaurants seems to be all consuming for me as soon as I walk in: am i greeted, did the hostess cop an attitude, did we have silverware at the table, did someone come for my drink order, did I get what I wanted fast, is the waiter friendly, is he knowledgeable, how many times will I have to ask for something, how many times am I asked if I'd like anything else, is the waiter visibly impatient, did I get everything I ordered when I ordered it, am I thanked, am I offered dessert even though I don't like them? And I'm sure there are more in this already-long list. And I think as soon as at least two of these are not meant, the only conceivable reason for it is our waiter, and by extension, the restaurant are not worth my time and money.

Who the hell am I? A customer. But, as the boyfriend's said before about other circumstances, am I human?

Corey's said at this rate we're not going to have very many places we can go to. He's right and I am wrong. Because, well, why should I hold a weirdly arbitrary standard to people who're doing a job even I wouldn't do?

There will be more about this, to be sure...

Re-Gifters

We were talking gifts the other day.

I don't keep very many things people give me over the years, whether friends or ex's. Because there is a disassociation with the people who gave them to me. Corey and I were talking, and this is what I said. I don't return anything that was given to me that I don't like because I appreciate the gesture and thought. But once that particular relationship is dissolved, whether through my or the other person's actions/inactions, there is no point in cluttering my life with things.

Don't get me wrong: I keep things that truly matter in context.

But most things do not last that long. People don't last that long.

I'm really not much one for gifts. I mean, I like giving to someone something I think they will like, or I know they want, or both. But as far as I'm concerned, the gesture, not the thing itself, matters a little more.

I was thinking that there wasn't anything from the last, say, ten years that I've kept beyond the 'I like it' part of it. But there are. A few. One being the envelope Golden gave me back in 2003 with the zine she made. Another is from 2004 when Justin mailed me a framed and autographed version of this photo. Another is this bracelet Cynthia gave me. And most recently, it's this list of things Corey gave me for Valentine's Day. I have these things and will continue having them because they matter in the context of my life at these various points in time. And, truly, most everything else I've gotten does not stand up very well to this test.

(Don't misunderstand: I've other things from before, during, and after the ones above. But the sentimental cache if you will isn't there anymore and I keep a CD because I like the music in it, for example.)

Corey called it 'love stories in the trash' in a text. But it's not nearly that, I don't think. Sometimes, I come across something someone's given me and that person and I no longer have any sort of emotional or personal or even practical attachment, so why keep it? Years ago, this girl, Carly, gave me a framed picture of her and me at her birthday party and I got rid of it a few years ago because...there is not reason for me to have it any more. It reminds of all the things kids write in year books during the last week of classes and we write "K-I-T" but no one does it; it's the polite thing to do because we know full-well that we are not going to do it. I know I'm not. I don't have anything anyone's given me who is no longer a meaningful part of my life. With very few exceptions. Funny thing: my best friend tweeted this quote from SEX & THE CITY as I began typing this.

All of this reminds me, of course, of CHOKE by Chuck Palahniuk: "You'd be surprised how easy it is to close the door to your past."

I'm not sure if this means that I'm more utilitarian than I think I am, or just more petty. Probably a little of both (or a lot of both.).

But then it makes me think of whether or not I place a higher value on the thing than the person. I mean, I have a handful of things that mean something to me - a good memory, a sad one - but the person from whom it came, why don't I have the same emotional attachment to it? Obvious answer is, well, I held that person in high regard but they showed me I was wrong and they are worth less than what they say. How vile does that last sentence sound?

While I'm not partial to receiving (I'm going to snicker at the double entendre!) anything, I suppose thinking that the person who got me something to for any effect probably has in their mind that I will always have it. I mean, I do when I give. For the most part I think we all do. I really do. But once that relationship is dissolved, then what? Clutter. It's the literal representation of when we say about each other that we have a lot of baggage with us at all times. Perhaps when I get rid of that book you gave me because it comes with baggage: you.

Tonight, Next Year

We went to lunch and a short walk and a movie and a fast-food dinner.

We talk for hours about meaningful things. And there've been some frustrations on both sides of the conversation over the last year.

One of the things we talked about today (yesterday?) was time and how I feel my perception of time is skewed. Before, I've said that there is no such thing as time, and I'm awake all it is is change and entropy (grand and original though, hey?). But as we're talking briefly about the preceeding year, and I think again how everything that happened last year had to have happened in my life, it still feels as if everything was just yesterday (more accurately, all of it happened last week), and he says he feels he's a bit more removed than I am from all of that. Last year wasn't absolutely terrible, but it wasn't good, was it?

And when we're laying next to each other - sweat and come spent - I feel like I'm trying to see if tonight will seem like yesterday next year. Or if he'll see tonight as having happened years ago next year.

We both agreed that everything that's happened since January seems to be compressed into a much shorter amount of time than three months. A lot has indeed happened in three months for him and me and us, definitely not everything has been unambiguous and not everything has been sad.

Just got off the phone with my best friend and we're talking, not about time, no, but we're talking about making reckless choices, or having the choices be made for us. Which is the better option? As I tend to do, I vote for the former.

So, we strip off each other's clothes and move and maneuver and kiss and grind and lick and envelop each other and you know what? fuck next year.