"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

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.

I hang up.  Brad is now calling me.  ”Jillie.”  ”Brad, why are you calling me.  ”Jillie.” ”Everybody is in the barn.”  ”Where are the cops?  Are they in the barn, too?” ”I just wanted to tell you I got a date with the female police officer.”I exhaled.  Jillie take a chill pill do not blow this. ”Wow, really, Brad. Well, you are really hot.  Talk to you Brad, as soon as they leave okay?”  ”Ok girl”  But then Brad called me back three more times with up dates.

ONE: They are wondering if I have any Rum. SECOND: We are close to running out of food.  THIRD: Jillie, Nick wants to come back tomorrow for more stuff.  Nick gave Tom some piece of shit old guitar.  I am going in their now and telling him NO.  Also, he wanted to play with Clarence and I told him No.     2:00PM

Another phone call but it is not Brad.  I blocked the call.  I do not pick it up.  When it shows a voicemail, I go back into the closet. ”Jillie Apple this is Sheriff, Tom Jones of Crown County.  Frankly, we are tired of babysitting these guys.  Here is a case number.  You call us if you need us.” I look out the window and all three police cars are leaving.  I slump down. Nick has got two helpers and now he is coming on the deck to talk to the boys.  I CAN’T BREATHE.  I CAN’T BREATHE.  I CAN’T BREATHE.     3:30PM

I hear the trucks starting and they are all leaving.  I jump up and watch Nick and his helper’s go and disappear down the street.  I immediately run down the stairs and onto the deck.. Finally , they have left.

All 3 of us and Clarence walk over to Trish house to get the truck.  Trish comes running out and I have to introduced her to them and she fills us with more donuts and cookies.  Now, it is time to take these two back home with Clarence, the dog.

Hyped and crazy in the car and tan. Tom is visibly annoyed at me for not letting Nick smoke pot all day if he wanted.  Brad lets out a deep laugh and touches my shoulder.  His gorgeous eyes went wide.  He says he is pretty sure Tom is drunk.  He is such a light weight.  At least they kept Nick away from me. Nick took everything from dirty shovels to old crappy tires. Unbelievable.

I pulled up to Brad’s place and they both piled out of the car.  Clarence just sat on the passenger side and would not budge.  Brad reached in to get him and leaned over and kissed my cheek.  ”Call me beautiful.”  ”Thanks, Brad”.  I said gently.

They waved goodbye.

 

I had called the local police a week ago because the property had just got annexed and no longer part of unincorporated Crown County.  They took my call very seriously and wanted me to call them a half hour before Nick was to arrived and they would have a civil escort until he left the property.  But I was so busy with the boys I didn’t, so who called them?  The neighbors.  Nick?

All the vehicles are now parked.  And three Sheriffs approach the house.  I watch as Brad literally jumps off the deck and bounces right over to the female Cop.  He is now shaking all the Cops hands.  I can hear a Cop say, ”Is she here?”

I hold my breath.  My legs are crumbling underneath me.  Loud and Clear I hear Brad say, ”NO, SIR.  She is not here.”  I lay on the floor and try to get my breath back.  My heart won’t stop pounding.  I know Nick wants in the house. It was not enough.  He wants everything.

Then my cell starts ringing.  I see that it is Trish.  I jump to my feet quickly to get the ringer off.  I peep out the open window.  I open the bedroom closet door .  I close it behind me, slowly and in the dark in a whisper.  I call Trish back.  She wants to bring lunch over for everyone!!!  My little old lady neighbor upset that we do not have food (I love her) tells me she is coming over to bring us LUNCH!!!!

”OH….NO, NO, NO, NO.  Trish you are so kind and thoughtful, however, I would be in a lot of trouble.  Nick is so confrontational that I know if he sees me, it will be trouble.”  I explain that there are Sheriffs here.  And as soon as it is over I will come over to see you.  It took a solid 5 minutes to convince her NOT to come over.

 

 

”Honey, why would anyone dump you, your beautiful.  I would do you in a minute.  Brad nods and says, ”Now, look, Jillie.  Here is my plan.  I am going to tell that pot smoking idiot that you are my woman.  Okay.  And that I am going to rent the bottom of the barn and need him to get his fucking shit out of here, quickly.  Right!  Right! he trailed off dramatically.  Cause your my woman.”

”Thanks, Brad,” as we lock eyes, his peepers seem a littly sleepy and droopy.  Not sure if it’s still lust on his part or he is already drunk.  I ignore It. I put my hand on the front door and turned dramatically, as I realize something so goddamn important, I almost forgot.  At this very last minute, I tell Brad that if and when Nick shows up supposed to be around 10:30am, please tell him I am not here,  just Brad please, just tell him, I am, not here, OK?  You can do that, right Brad?

With a thumbs up and ”No problem Babe.”  I close the front door behind me.  I am leaning on it trying to get my baring, trying to breathe.  I know Nick can be very intimidating. And hopefull confused by my new love interest.  Shaking my head in disbelief, I run through the living room and up the stairs to the second bedroom window that has the best view of the barn.

It is now 10:00 am

10:50 am a little truck with a little trailer drives up and the boys start laughing.  ”Look at that loser,” I hear Tom say.  Then the truck turns around and goes back down the street.

11:00 am.  No sign of Nick.  However, the boys are having a party down on the deck.  Music is blatantly loud.  Ice is clinking.  Another neighbor calls and wants to know who those hunks are on the deck.

12:00 Noon.  Not one but four vehicles:  Two with attached trailers come up to the house.  Directly behind them TWO SHERIFF CARS.

SHIT. SHIT.SHIT.  I start to panic in the upstairs bedroom.  I did not tell the boys that the police might come.  OH SHIT.  OH SHIT

 

I  shot Brad a look.  ”Modeling.” I say out loud and immediately regret.  ”Yeah, Babe pays good.  We both do it.” Brad said, as he ran a hand through his unruly hair.  I quickly looked back at the traffic, and paid attention to driving.  In the mean time, I found that Brad is 36, been married 16 years, his wife has been doing meth for three years, before he found out,  and she just split a couple months ago.  That Ben is 25 and ready to kick Nick’s butt.

OH. MY. GOD.  I’m just wide eyed, and in a parallel universe, right now.  I pull up to my house, with a lot of oooohs and aaaahs from the boys.  ”Love the barn man”, Jason says.  We pile out of the truck, and the guys start to set up a bar on the deck patio table, with paper cups and vodka.

It is now 9:30 a.m.

”Jillie, we need ice.  And do you got anything to eat.” Said, Brad with a look of desperation settled on his chiseled features.  I nod, ”Of course.”  I turn my head biting my lip. “Of course?? … I am broke.  There is nothing in the pantry but a can of garbanzo beans, that I will whirl in the blender with oil, and put on top of spaghetti for the next two dinners.

I start to unlock the front door when my cell rings.  It is my neighbor Trish.  Close to 75 now, she lives alone. I tell her what has happened, today.  She immediately wants to come over to my house, as she has lots of snacks. NO, NO, Trish, let me run over to your house.  And if you don’t mind. I will park the truck at your place until it is over.”

Trish fills my arms with chips, popcorn, etc.  I get back to the deck and now the two of them have their shirts off!  Brad is wearing shorts and wants to know if i have any sunscreen!  “Food, ice, sunscreen, I count off my fingers.  “Oh, and I see you brought music, as Jason was pluging in, what looked like a boom box. ”Un-huh.”  At the last minute, I tell Brad that if and when EX shows up, please tell him, I’m not here.  Just.. Brad please, just tell them I’m not here.  You can do that right, Brad?

Obviously, the first drink down, Brad starts to get amorous gets out of his chair and grabs my hand.

 

”Yeah, Clarence is a great watch dog.  Robbers could do whatever they want and good ole Clarence would just sit and watch.” Brad laughed.  ”Where is your (I almost said shirt) friend, Brad. ”Yeah, Jillie we gotta go pick up Jason.  Okay if Clarence comes?”  ”Sure.”  I said too cheerfully.

”Cool.  Clarence can sit with Jason in the back seat.  But first we got to make a stop at a convenience store.  I need some ginger to go with my vodka.”  The movie music stopped…as did my crush-like thoughts.

As I park the truck, Clarence starts whining in the back seat as I watch this Greek God go into the 7-11.  I realize he plans to drink at my house.  Talk about a rock and a hard place.  Brad comes strutting back with a sack in one hand and talking on his cell phone with the other.  I hear him say ”we will be right there Jason.”

He jumps into the truck seat giving Clarence a quick rub.  Then turns and looks at me again.  ”Yeah, Jason was partying all night couldn’t make it to my house so let’s go get him, girl.”

Younger, heavier all grins Brad’s co-hart Jason.  He squeezed himself into the back seat of the truck next to Clarence.  I tell the guys how my Ex is coming to the barn to pick up his things.  Since it is such a nice day, if they wouldn’t mind just sitting on the deck for a couple of hours, while he moves his stuff out of the barn.

Brad and Jason are chattering away like long lost souls.  About their time in prison, last traffic ticket, last girl, and their modeling days.

“Yeah?”  “We don’t have a car.”  ”WHAT?” “Yeah, you have to pick us up.” ”Pick you up.” ”Yeah.”  I take a deep breath.  ”Right, right sorry,” I say in my best life-keeps-punching-me-in-the-stomach voice.  I just, I didn’t .  Ok. you want me to pick you up?”

Sunday morning the June heat already rising at 8am.  I drove 20 miles to get to Brad’s address.  The whole way driving my beat up red pick-up truck I kept thinking .  Where did my life go?  Who are these people?   The address on the mailbox matched.  I shifted gears  in the truck and drove up hill on a dirt road to a little white house with black shutters and a red front door.

Orchard trees filled the side and back of the house.  I parked and the red door opened.  I could hear movie music.  He had no shirt on.  Only wearing a full 6-pack.  Sweat pants that laid real low on his hips.  His mop of blonde curly hair lay inches below his ears and dropping into his eyes.  His face adorned with a short stubble.

He started to walk towards the truck.  Or should I say strut.  He had a strut that made me want to get out of the car and tackle him right then and there on the dirt.  I rolled down the window and hollered, ”Brad?”  I got out of the truck and he walked towards me.  His handshake was smooth and his grip firm.  His eyes dead center into mine.  The feelings were mutual.  More said in a stare than words.

Damn Jilliie your 57 and good ole Brad gave me the up and down look with a huge grin.  My smile fell off when out of nowhere a huge black and white Pit Bull leaped on me, wiggling all, over.  “Clarence” Brad yelled.  “Sit down boy.” Brad’s thick curly hair bounced onto his forehead and it was all I could do to not push it out of his eyes.