"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

“Jillie, I’m sorry to say, but because of the Great Recession your Financial Aid has been cut in half.  So, instead of $1,400 a month, you will only receive $800 for this year. I have the month of September and almost all of October. I knew right then with my $2,300 a month mortgage. School had to go.  I had to find work that paid.

Where to start?  I can’t remember ever being this physicaly exhausted.  I think my work shoes are old and of course I don’t have $200 to buy new ones.

I have food, freedom, home, car, all I’m lacking is money.  So, keeping that perspective. I realize that I’m feeling a bit calmer.  A bit more protected  because, I have not lost anything yet.  And I have money from the barn rent, the cars and boats in the field.

I will see if I am enough of a hardship case to help me with my mortgage.  And to get the paperwork out to help me with the hot water tank that burst yesterday.  I do not have problems.  I have inconveniences and feel so lucky to still have my home and my retirement.

I will not be foolish enough to throw it away because I’m tired.  I have on the wall all my accomplishments since this nitemare started and everyday I say this is not doomsday.  Doomsday is not here today.  I pick myself up even if I have a crying bout (that is not controllable).

 

I was officially divorced. Divorced.  Divorced. Divorced.  No longer Mrs. Apple.  It was precisely one year and 31 days since March 13, 2010.

I wanted to scream with relief.  However, I was filled with sadness, anger, and a little bit of happiness.  At least that’s what I told myself.

George as always, was one big smile, when I came into the Computer Room.  I said, ”Thank you” and goodbye to all the guys.

George gave me the computer and said he wanted to talk to me.  I said, ”Okay but I’ve got a class so can you walk with me.”

As we walked outside the door, I asked George. ”What was it he wanted to talk about?”  His face flushed and as always I could never tell which eye to look at.  I know that is bad, but it is true.

Since I started school I never took off my wedding ring.  And I never discussed with a classmate or teacher.  Only the Displaced Homemaker, Brian Thomas, who had come in the dining room recently, and in front of everyone, he gave me a huge hug.

I’m sure my co-workers,  Cheff and Mr. C wondered what the hell that was about.  Brian told me he was leaving the school, and just wanted to wish me well.  I was not happy as he had helped me and I would miss not having the one person who knew my past gone.

George, who had been jabbering and walking alongside me, suddenly stepped  in front of me so that I had to stop. ”George?” ”Jillie.” ”Yes?”  ”Will you go out with me?”  ”I know you don’t wnt to go out with someone like me, but someone as beautiful as you are the prettiest girl I know.  And your so nice and I would actually fall over dead if you did say yes. But will you?”

I never saw that coming.  I was indeed taken aback and the irony of today of all days.  The day of my Divorce and being asked out?  ”Oh, George” I put my hand on his shoulder, and you will not believe, how much you made my day!”

So I kissed him on the cheek and gave him another huge squeeze hug.  Thanks for making my day.    And I walked by myself with an enormous smile on my face.

I will never forget on the day it was officially over and Divorced.  I got asked out on a date.

The last time was 40+years ago.

 

 

”Yes, my class is Computer Repair at the Tech center in room 219.  We are there Monday-Friday from 7am to 3pm.”  ”George, oh my gosh.   Wow!  I just broke my laptop.  I have had to go to the library almost every day to use their computers.  The worst part is that I only dropped it 3 inches on the carpet and it won’t work.  Could your class fix it?”

”Yes.” ”Well, I will tell you at the end of the day the bakery has leftovers, like donuts and I wil bring them to your class if you will fix my computer.”

His face lit up!  He had a crazy, one eye, that drifted to the right. ”Are you going to be there this afternoon?”  ”Yes.”  ”George, don’t leave a tip anymore.  This is just great news.  Thank you.”

I kept coming in once a week to drop off all the baked goods.  It was so fun to not throw away our food we had made,  and let all the great guys in Computer Repair enjoy it.  And I got to know them all, as George showed me around, and introduced me to his fellow students.

I had just talked to the attorney an hour before I arrived at 2pm at the Computer Lab with my arms full of my last big box of baked goods.  Months and months of anxiety and uncertainty of having to face a Judge who would make the decision on how to divide the house.  I was officially divorced and still had my house.  I no longer would have nightmares of my belongings in a shopping cart walking the streets aimlessly, homeless.

Finally, the stagnant Oxygen thief of fear, fell off me .  Brick by brick filing my body with clarity and hope.

 

”I’m so jealous of you.”  Willow grabbed my elbow as we walked down to the school restaurant. ”You have two guys, well three if we count,  ”Jelly! Jelly! Jelly!  ”You are so funny.” I agreed with a small smile.  Willow looked up at me. ”No, listen to me. Okay.  First, Chef Brock.  If only this dude could look at me–the way he looks at you Jilly.” ”Second.  One EYE.  ”Willow, his name is George.”

”Yay, Yay, whatever he come in every single day.  He sits in the barstool at the round restaurant table cause you are serving and orders only from you!!  Ah, well  I wonder why he doesn’t wear a patch since that bad eye is crossed. ”Willow! Gimme a break- you are 21 years old.  I’m like your Grandma.”  ”Yeah bitch, that’s why I’m so mad at you.”

I grabbed her braid.  ”You have this long beautiful red hair and a ton of friends. So why do you want Chef Brock anyway? ”Easy. Cause he wants you.” ”OMG!”  I love you so much.  You have absolutely made my day.”

I opened the restaurant door just in time to hear ”LUNCH!”  Opens in 5 minutes.  Everyone gets to their stations now!!” Mr. F hollered.  ”Dining room is about to open!”  Willow and I , both in our server uniforms, waved goodbye to each other.  She went to her station and I went inside the round bar where the cash register was, and bar stools lined up

Mr. F came up to me, ”Can you count change today Jillie.”  ”Maybe.” ”Can you fold napkins today, Jillie?” ”Yes.  Yes. I can.  Do you want a demonstration?” Mr. F huffed off.  I knew he wasn’t really mad at me but had to keep up his appearnace as an asshole.  I tightened my apron around my waist and like clockwork.  Our first customer was George.  ”Hi Jillie.”  He said as he scooted up onto the cafeteria bar stool.  ”Oh, Hi!” (shit, I almost called him one eye.)

”George, how are you today?” ”Oh, I am taking my class today about fixing computers.”  ”Wait?  What did you say?  Did you say there is a class on campus that fixes broken computers?”

Culinary school you depend on each other .  If one fails the group, it slows down the process, the rhythm, the dance of every day, in the kitchen. Feels like a romance.  The slow beginning prep starts with easy.  Then it picks up speed.  As the clock ticks, close to a meal hour, you go from holding hands to a dance of frantic proportions.  Yelling! Hot! Corner!  Knife!  This rolling seance of bodies, in time with each other, similar to the touch, naked skin and the sheets, the same hot searing increase, in blood pressure and the food is braised, grilled, each station completed and the rush is over.  Till the next one.

One of my best experiences in Culinary school was the Chef.  Chef Matt he had a grin on his face that never left.  He was cute and tall, athletic.  He sang and brought his guitar to class.  And the best of all treated me like I was his age and not some old broad, lost and lonely.

Why?  I have no idea.  But his kindness in flirting with me and so full of energy and good cheer and upeat.  I loved it when he would try our food and the many looks on his face!?  When I would walk out of the class, his eyes would follow me, and I would turn around and give him the smile, he said he liked.   He made my day every day so great!

Sometimes, I would come into the kitchen, and you know how you are in the same path as some one walking toward you,  and somebody has to move over. He would grab my hand, and twirl me around, and grab me by the waist and start to dance.

The next event:  I had to drive several miles.  The event was happening in a private home.  Where I was to be the CHEF!!  I arrived on time.  Dressed in my checked black and white pants.  And white Chef coat.  I was thrilled to think I would get $15.00 and hour!!

However, I was incredibly sad.  That their were  going to be 25 people sitting in the backyard for a Funeral.

I was brought into the kitchen.  Since it was August there, was a lot of fruit to prep, dips to make, salads, drinks, etc.  Another Chef showed up.  But she seemed to be lost in what to do.  And it surprised me.  But I took charge!  I begin to direct her precisely what to do and what to make.  We made platters that we filled with finger sandwiches, crudites, charcuterie boards and fruit platters

I couldn’t stop smiling.  I had been cooking for my family for decades.  There wasn’t a dish I didn’t know how to make.  We set the food up in the tiny backyard on tables against a fence.

The guest’s and the Preacher had arrived.  They began to sit on the gray, opened folding chairs on the lawn.  And the Preacher sat up front in rows of gray opened folding chairs

The host just asked us to wait inside their home until the ceremony was over.

We both went inside their living room.   An older gentleman was sitting on the couch and asked us to sit with him.  He preceded to tell us about the deceased.

He said, ”That it was his nephew.  He had gotten into his car in the morning.” He stopped and pointed to the living room windown.  ”Do you see the driveway and the carport?”

”Yes,” I said.  That morning,  and for some reason, no one knows, his car was parked under the carport.   And caught on fire.  They could not get him out of his car.  He died in the car.”

I was stunned and horrified for the family.  We did not know it was a Funeral.  We spendt the whole morning cleaning and preparing food.  We both sat quietly and then the host came in and asked us two Chef’s to go outside and enjoy the food that we had prepared.

He also handed a $50.00 tip to each of us for such a great meal.  Fifty dollars!!!  I was heavy-hearted for the family.  And proud that I was able to give them my all to make the day amicable.

As soon as my banquet boss called, I took every banquet job they had to offer!  However, I was going back to school in September and would only be able to pick up weekend shifts.

 

 

My first event was huge!!  I’ll put it this way. It was the local wineries biggest auction of the year.   We were divided up into teams with a Captain.  And they threw you out there.

It was a perfect sunny summer day in August.  And my first shift started at 2 p.m.  All the servers met inside a Giant Tent, out on the sprawling green, grass lawns.  Next to the Enormous bright White Tent.  I had never seen where the auction would be held inside the tent.  It was the type of event that I could have easily attended in the past.  But now I was in black pants, black shoes, short black apron, a long white sleeve shirt, and black tie.  The wait staff’s uniform.

Humbling in fear I might see someone I might know from our business.  From living in the same community for so long.  I had done waitress work in my 20’s, but now I was 57 and feeling like the largest loser on the planet.  But it was work.  It was money to pay bills.  And most important, it was going to save my house!  So, I didn’t give a damn.

I had to deliver the food.  Set it down off it’s tray-all in a helpful, courteous, and calm manner.  Just like I had learned in Culinary school.  ”Left to set it down.” ”Right to pick it up.”  Inside the enormous tent were seated 150 guests! They were seated at  round white tablecloth tables and hanging Chandeliers.

With a celebrity auctioneer on stage.  All the guests were seated at circled tables.  I spent more time watching my feet so as not to hit a bump and spill. And so nervouse, my Captain had to take me aside, to calm me down.

The event and I ended at 1AM.  I crawled home and into the bathtub.

August 2011, Culinary school paid off!  I got a liquor license though I knew nothing about mixology.  And I got a food permit.  Before I could start, I had to show all Culinary school licenses.  I took credited classes on alcohol and driving alcohol and behavior:  And the science of alcohol and servers responsibilities.

And that in Culinary school, I had passed all the tests for Food Safety Permits and had an Alcohol Server Certificate.  All I had to do for the interview was lift a 20-pound food tray with my right hand.  Rest it on my shoulder and then walk carefuly over to the large table set up in alcohol, driving alcohol and behavior.  The science of alcohol and servers responsibilities.

I needed work so severely that I was at the point of no return.  I worried about Financial Aid.  It seemed clear that there would not be enough money for the Fall Quarter school. Top Seek was over.  No more Grandpa and the two teens.  All I had was this offer, in so many ways.  Not so much financially, not even close.  It was $12.OO an hour and there was no work guarantee.

You had to send in a weekly availability report.  First to call in, got to pick up the job. You know what?  It was $3.00 more if I got to do CHEF DUTIES!!  At my new part-time as a Banquet Server I must serve the Guest the Alcohol.  No self service.  I must uncap/open all product that is handed to a guest.

I am a State Bartender. I holed the discretion and the right to ask for ID and should it become necessary, cut off.  I knew nothing about mixology, but all I had to do was just pop the lid and pour.  ”Stay with the product.  Take care of your restroom needs before or after shift.”  The lady who just hired me said. ”Alcohol must be returned at the end of the event.  And the inventory of your order must be taken.”

 

Social Services.  At every social service, I was given a big hug.  NW Justice Project.  This Attorney spent a good deal of time with me regarding Nick’s bankruptcy.  Together we called the mortgage where I was given a realtionship manager.   HEALTH POINT $25.00 a visit provides primary medical and dental care and pharmacy services, and naturopathic and behavioral health care a visit, or you can pay next time, which I was very thankful for.

HIV/AIDS TESTING  I still had insurance, so my Attorney recommended getting an Aids test.  Wow, that was another humiliation, but a relief that it was all negative.  24-HOUR CRISIS LINE provides immediate help to individuals, families, and friends of people in emotional crisis.  HOPELINK I went there to help me with my electric power bill.  It had gotten up to $700. They had a program for energy assistance.  SALVATION ARMY was the last social service I visited.  And when I finally had to succumb to going to the Salvation Army.  The first thing they did was hand me a sack of groceries.  No fruit or vegetables it was all boxed canned or bread.

When you have to fill your refrigerator and freezer with glass jars full of water because its computer makes it shut down if there  is not enough food in the refrigerator.  To then wake up one day and have to ask the neighbor for $6.00 to buy gas to get to a minimum wage job.  The neighbor not knowing that I had no food or toilet paper.

Toliet paper! OMG, I would have hated to live in the Middle ages.  Bad enough, no toilet paper, ever worst would be without conditioner for your hair.  I would be one of those hunchback, toothless, hair pointing all directions in one big fuzzball on top of my head.

And I believe because it was the great recession. When I would call the credit card or student loan and worst of all the mortgage.  I would beg for more time more ways than I could come up with the money.  Instead of sending me directly to collection I would find a voice on the other end of the phone where they too had a runaway spouse or there child was an addict.

 

I called Debbie to tell her about the crazy weekend with Tom and Brad.  She knew it was hard and scary. So she wanted me to go to Divorce Recovery.

A woman had dated her boy friend for nine years.  Then they got married. They  had a 2 year old.  And now her husband is hooked on pot.  The house they had bought, because of his drug use,  went into foreclosure.  One man’s married son got hooked on meth and broke up his 27 year marriage.

Though Divorce Recovery is wonderful.  I don’t like to rehash it and see the sad faces and the memories of hearing their pain and hurt.

Debbie’s tiny apartment is so depressing.  It smells really bad.  She has to go up to two flights of stairs with groceries.  I think yesterday was a stressful reminder, though divorce recovery is wonderful. I don’t like to rehash it and see the faces and the memories of hearing their pain and hurt.

I dont think I would have been able to be a psychiatrist.  I would carry there issues too hard, too long, and not able to shake their pain.

I would rather donate money, or write articles, and I think I now realize why I have not gone back to Divorce Recovery.

Even thou, I like to be part of a group and like to feel like part of a family this one is to hard and painful.