Tuesday January 19, 2010

Happy one-year anniversary of the day I decided to document my uneventful life. And that's all I have to say about that...

My alarm goes off at 4:00 AM, as I have been given the unwanted privilege of opening at the Bou this morning. And not just opening. I get to open with my backward-ass re-tard of a manager this morning. I reset my alarm for 5:00 AM, which in all honesty, is the time I'm supposed to be AT work. But I'm more of a "fifteen-minutes late" kinda guy, especially when it comes to working at the ass-crack of dawn. And after four years of working for the Bou, with more than my fair share of opening shifts, i can assure you that the store sure as shit doesn't take a half-hour to open.

I finally get out of bed around ten to five and literally stand up, throw on my jeans and polo, grab wallet and phone, throw my glasses on (contacts bother my eyes if I put them in too quickly after I wake up), grab my keys, and it's out the door. All in all, I'd say my "getting ready for work" was about a 3 and a half minute process this morning.

I walk out to the car and curse myself for living around the Chicago area, as the winters are just that brutal, especially at 5:00 AM. I get into my car and crank the heat as every part of my body locks up and convulses because it's so damn cold. I probably looked like I was having a seizure. I'm glad I'm the only asshole up at this hour. I've also been on this insane Thrice obsession lately and have had every album on constant repeat for the past month and a half. I throw on their entire collection on my Zune and put it on random. I fire up a smoke and head to the place that causes any joy I have in life to slowly disintegrate.

I get to work just around the time I expected, which is 5:15. I walk inside only to find that Ryan has been in the store since 5:00 and there is literally NOTHING done. I immediately go to work on setting the bakery case up. It wasn't until I was done putting the muffins out that I realize that the closing crew forgot to pull more bakery from the freezer last night, thus leaving us with a very limited selection. I put out what I can and just say fuck the rest, as it's super early, I'm tired as hell, and I just don't get paid enough to give a shit about those kinds of things. My work ethic equals my pay, and since my pay is horse shit, I put considerably less effort into everything I do at work. If the pay increases, so does my motivation. I think that's fair. Am I right?

Working for Caribou Coffee reminds me every single day why I have a certain distaste for the general public. I don't hate individual people, but when it comes to individuals being lumped together into the term "general public", I can't fucking stand people. You never realize just how fucking idiotic people are until you work in a restaurant of some sort.

For example, this guy has been coming into Caribou for the last two years or so. Apparently he used to just come in on Tuesdays to get a paper, but would never buy anything else, including a $2 cup of coffee. That right there just screams "cheap bastard". So, in order to make a connection with this cheap ass, Ryan and the former district manager, Tony, made a deal with this guy that they would give him his coffee for $1, as he would always miss our Monday $1 coffee special because he only came in on Tuesdays. I wouldn't have done it, but whatever. Since then, however, this asshole has started coming in more than just Tuesdays. He now comes in at least 3 or 4 days a week, and he always demands his $1 coffee. So obviously this jag-off is abusing his privilege. So, for the last few months or so, I have stopped giving him his coffee for a dollar, stating that it's against store policy, when, in reality, I just think he's a douche bag and he never did anything for me or the store to warrant such special treatment.

So the asshole comes in this morning and asks for his 1$ coffee, and again, I tell him no. He comes back and says that Ryan and Tony have made it clear to him that he gets his coffee for a buck. Fortunately for the sake of my argument, Tony was let go from the company almost a year ago, thus negating any validity in homeboy's argument. Ryan bombs out of the back room and gives him his dollar coffee before a serious argument ensues. He tells me that I need to give him his dollar coffee from now on, to which I respond that I will not give it to him, as the bastard has never done anything for me or the store and has never even left so much as a fucking penny in my tip jar, so fuck him. Ryan then tells me that Tony told him to do it, and I remind him, like the asshole I am capable of being, that Tony's dumb ass got fired nine months ago. He doesn't argue and we both silently agree that I will continue to not give this scrotum his undeserved coffee for a buck. And that, in a nutshell, is what it's like to deal with the general public in a coffee shop. Fuck my life.

The rest of work goes super slow and we don't ever get busy. This sucks even more due to the fact that I now have an exceptional amount of downtime, more so than usual, and I have to spend it with Ryan. Me and Ryan do not speak. We have absolutely nothing in common. Mix that with the fact that he's some kind of mutant offspring, and you are left with a 7-hour shift with very little conversing. It's one of the longest shifts of my life.

Jill gets there at noon and relieves me of my slave duties for the day. I'm hungrier than hell so I swing by Wendy's for a burger on my way home. I get home just around 12:45 or so and find Tool using my computer to write a letter to someone, completely killing my initial plans to work on my screenplay. For some odd reason, I'm feeling quite energized, so I decide to take a stroll down memory lane with some excellent nostalgia, compliments of Mario 64. I rock the game for a few hours, eventually giving up because I couldn't get past a certain level. I'm such a child when it comes to video games. If I can't get past a certain level, I just get frustrated and shut the game off, all while using choice profanity and taking the Lord's name in vain. But I figure just shutting the game off and bringing myself back to neutral is probably the most responsible choice.

Tool goes out to run some errands around 4:00 or so, so I contemplate doing some work on the screenplay. But before I can even think about getting up off the couch, tiredness starts to settle in and I wind up passing out. Tool comes home about an hour later and I wake up. I cruise into my bedroom and proceed to crash for another two hours.

I wake from my spontaneous nap around 7:00. I remember Hart said he wanted to come over to peep out the 8th season premiere of 24, so I force myself out of bed and walk out in the living room to wake up a bit. I walk into the kitchen to get some food, to which I quickly realize that I'm shit out of luck, as our cabinets and fridge are completely bare. I throw my coat on and take a trip over to Passero's for a few big slices of pizza. I get there, order up a slice of pepperoni and a slice of sausage.

Once at home, I'm balls deep into devouring my slice of pepperoni pizza when Hart shows up. I ask him if we're still going to hit up 24, but he tells me we might have to postpone the viewing until tomorrow, as he and my brother are planning on going out for a few drinks with Dave T, an outing that he suggests I come along for. I accept the invite, throw on some clothes, and head out the door. Hart drives separately in case he needs to leave before we are ready, so I opt to ride with him to the bar so we can bullshit for a bit. We both fire up a smoke for the ride and bullshit about movies and what we're looking forward to and which ones look like absolute dog shit.

We get to the Gordon Biersch Brewery/Restaurant and cruise inside to get a table. Dave hasn't gotten there yet, so the three of us order up drinks while we wait. I get one of their Golden Export beers (they brew all of their own beer), Tool gets some darker beer that I can't remember the name of, and Hart plays slick pimp and gets himself an extra dirty martini. We sit and bullshit until Dave shows up. More bullshitting ensues and eventually Dave's friend Mary shows up (not Justin's Mary, but oddly enough they are both insanely Irish), and Mary brings her friend Maris. Soon enough, V shows up, followed by our friends Julian and Scott. What started as a quiet night with a few of the guys, turns into a mini Tool House of '05 reunion. A great time is had by all.

It's just around 12:30 when we decide to take the party back to our place. Hart and V both took off a little earlier, but the rest of the crew is still there and still very much up for some more drinks. I catch a ride with Dave T. and he plays a bit of the new John Mayer album for me on the ride home. We bullshit about film making and we discuss my film for the summer. I fucking love talking movies with Dave. The two of us could and have literally gone for multiple hours talking about nothing but film. We once ran into each other in my hallway during a party at my condo and started talking about films. Two hours later, people were leaving the party and said they thought we left to suck eachother's dicks off. They weren't too far off, but it just goes to show you how into it we both get. I've never had more in-depth film discussions with anyone else in my life. The dude just has such a passion for everything film, just as I do.

We finally get back to my place and head upstairs to join the rest of the party. More beers are consumed and we even bust out the Beatles Rock Band for a bit. The Rock Band playing soon turns into a karaoke night after Mary decides to get her Ipod and play it through the stereo. Soon enough, everyone is almost in tears from laughing so hard at the awesome 90's gems that are on her Ipod. One after the other, we just keep cranking them out, trying to one-up one another. The shenanigans last till almost 4:30 AM before everyone finally decides to cruise home for the night. I drunkenly stumble to my bathroom to take out my contacts and brush my teeth away the smell and taste of beer and tobacco. I then cruise into my bedroom where I pass the fuck out... instantly.