I'm going to Venetian Moon tomorrow night in Reading, (.5 miles from Jordan's Furniture, IMAX and Home Depot) and my friend told me "they don't allow hats in there."
I look better without a hat, so I will be smiling even though the martinis are $14.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Lies We're Told
I grew up in Reading, MA, where original settlers came from England in the 1630's to inhabit the Massachusetts Bay Colony. During it's early years, Reading was known as "Wood End" or "Third Parish", and hopefully, as time passes, people will forget about that and remember Reading is the home to Jordan's Furniture and IMAX.
Anyway, 300 and some odd years after those original hillbillies settled in to pick rubarb, I was hired as a "prep cook" at Wes Parker's restaurant. Those of you familiar with Wes Parker's remember it was then replaced with "Mandarin" restaurant, which, interestingly, is the only chinese food restaurant in town unless you frequent the other 7 all located within 1 square mile.
Now, pay attention here, because this is where the hubcaps fly off the Buick. On my first day, a Friday night, I put on the apron, and began acquainting myself with the kitchen. The manager comes in and says "okay, let's get you started" and brings me over to the dishwasher. Here's our conversation:
me: "This is the dishwasher."
Manager: "Yes. We really need help with dishwashing."
me: "But you hired me to be a prep cook."
Manager: "Yeah! You will be a prep cook, but for right now, we need some help washing pots and pans."
Me: "I see."
Manager: "Look. We'll start you off with something to eat. You hungry? The cooks will make anything you want."
Me: "Okay. I'll have the barbecued chicken with rice and vegetables."
Manager: "You got it."
8 minutes later, I'm eating my dinner right near the dishwasher and really just enjoying the environment, the hubbub of the kitchen, the waitstaff coming and going, making pickups, making order changes, etc. During this time, I noticed an unusually large pile of plates, silverware, pots and pans, etc., building up all around me. I don't recall if anyone even said "hello" to me, but the food sure was good. After I finished my meal, I placed my plate in the dirty pile along with the others. Then, the manager came back into give me a lay of the land.
Manager: "Okay, how was that, good? I love that dish."
Me: "Yeah, it really was excellent."
Manager: "Great. Now, here's how the machine works. Obviously, you scrape off the thick stuff in to the barrel, and after that, you give 'em a quick spray, then place them in the rack. Slide the rack in here, pull down the metal door, then you flip this switch and the machine will run for about 60 seconds. When you open that door, watch out for the steam that comes out, because it can burn your skin. Give it a couple of seconds to clear out, slide out the tray, then put the plates over there on the shelves in front of the cooks. The cooks will have bus tubs under their workstations. Periodically, swing by and see if those need emptying. They may have pots and pans that need scrubbing, or utensils, or whatever. You can also, if you have time, see if they need drinks, it gets wicked hot back there. So....okay. Here we go, obviously it's getting busy in here, and out there, so I gotta go check on the dining room. Okay?"
Me: "This is bullsh*t."
Then I tossed my apron to him and went out drinking with my friends. Not sure who washed dishes that night at Wes Parker's, but it wasn't me. If you ever travel back in time, order that chicken dinner.
Anyway, 300 and some odd years after those original hillbillies settled in to pick rubarb, I was hired as a "prep cook" at Wes Parker's restaurant. Those of you familiar with Wes Parker's remember it was then replaced with "Mandarin" restaurant, which, interestingly, is the only chinese food restaurant in town unless you frequent the other 7 all located within 1 square mile.
Now, pay attention here, because this is where the hubcaps fly off the Buick. On my first day, a Friday night, I put on the apron, and began acquainting myself with the kitchen. The manager comes in and says "okay, let's get you started" and brings me over to the dishwasher. Here's our conversation:
me: "This is the dishwasher."
Manager: "Yes. We really need help with dishwashing."
me: "But you hired me to be a prep cook."
Manager: "Yeah! You will be a prep cook, but for right now, we need some help washing pots and pans."
Me: "I see."
Manager: "Look. We'll start you off with something to eat. You hungry? The cooks will make anything you want."
Me: "Okay. I'll have the barbecued chicken with rice and vegetables."
Manager: "You got it."
8 minutes later, I'm eating my dinner right near the dishwasher and really just enjoying the environment, the hubbub of the kitchen, the waitstaff coming and going, making pickups, making order changes, etc. During this time, I noticed an unusually large pile of plates, silverware, pots and pans, etc., building up all around me. I don't recall if anyone even said "hello" to me, but the food sure was good. After I finished my meal, I placed my plate in the dirty pile along with the others. Then, the manager came back into give me a lay of the land.
Manager: "Okay, how was that, good? I love that dish."
Me: "Yeah, it really was excellent."
Manager: "Great. Now, here's how the machine works. Obviously, you scrape off the thick stuff in to the barrel, and after that, you give 'em a quick spray, then place them in the rack. Slide the rack in here, pull down the metal door, then you flip this switch and the machine will run for about 60 seconds. When you open that door, watch out for the steam that comes out, because it can burn your skin. Give it a couple of seconds to clear out, slide out the tray, then put the plates over there on the shelves in front of the cooks. The cooks will have bus tubs under their workstations. Periodically, swing by and see if those need emptying. They may have pots and pans that need scrubbing, or utensils, or whatever. You can also, if you have time, see if they need drinks, it gets wicked hot back there. So....okay. Here we go, obviously it's getting busy in here, and out there, so I gotta go check on the dining room. Okay?"
Me: "This is bullsh*t."
Then I tossed my apron to him and went out drinking with my friends. Not sure who washed dishes that night at Wes Parker's, but it wasn't me. If you ever travel back in time, order that chicken dinner.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Update on Will's Condition
You may recall, I witnessed a phlegmy handshake yesterday and felt somewhat responsible since I had made the introductions that caused that saliva-swap to begin with. I checked in with Will, who, isn't technically a patient of mine, but at this point, I'm treating all citizens as my patients whether they realize it or not.
Dr. Morgan... Will, are you there?
William Vaquerano/... ya
Dr. Morgan... I have a couple of questions for you, but I'd prefer to do it over this IM thing as I feel you may be contaminated.
William Vaquerano/... yes sir?
Dr. Morgan... Yesterday, do you recall when I made introductions with you and the new girl, Erin?
William Vaquerano/... yes
Dr. Morgan... Did she cough on her hand just prior to extending her hand and shaking yours?
William Vaquerano/... she did bro, I almost threw up on both of you guys. F*CK!
Dr. Morgan... That is ALMOST an act of terrorism. Did you go rinse up or do you have Lysol wipes at your desk? Oh, and how are you feeling?
Dr. Morgan...(30 seconds later) ANSWER ME!
William Vaquerano/... fine, but that shit was f*cked up.
Dr. Morgan...You're terminal.
William Vaquerano/...I'm fine dude.
Dr. Morgan...That's denial.
William Vaquerano/...I'm fine, and I gotta get to work dude.
Dr. Morgan...Okay. I will keep an eye on you periodically throughout the day, and I may check up on your glands and maybe take a throat culture.
William Vaquerano/...Leave me alone dude, I'm good.
Dr. Morgan...You'll thank me. I gotta sign off, I don't want your energy being sapped from unnecessary typing. Let me know if you get any symptoms.
Dr. Morgan...(1 minute later) At least reply with something so I know that you got my last IM, which may be the most important in case you start feeling hot flashes, etc.
William Vaquerano/...okay
Dr. Morgan..."okay" you got my last IM, or "okay", you are now just beginning to feel symptoms?
Dr. Morgan...Will? Will....This isn't funny.
Dr. Morgan...I'm coming over.
I walked over to Will's desk which is 10 feet to the right of my desk. After a brief visual inspection, it 'appears' that things are normal, as Will is reading ESPN.com and is letting phone calls go immediately into voicemail. I'm going to watch his eating habits throughout the day and see which course the virus decides to take. My guess? Tomorrow, sore throat, runny nose, and a slight cough. (Digital recorder message to self: "No contact whatsoever with Will today or tomorrow. Also, stay clear of the virus spreader, Erin. Breast visuals are not off limits.")
Doctor's Note: Will is in sales, so he already has the sales virus.
Dr. Morgan... Will, are you there?
William Vaquerano/... ya
Dr. Morgan... I have a couple of questions for you, but I'd prefer to do it over this IM thing as I feel you may be contaminated.
William Vaquerano/... yes sir?
Dr. Morgan... Yesterday, do you recall when I made introductions with you and the new girl, Erin?
William Vaquerano/... yes
Dr. Morgan... Did she cough on her hand just prior to extending her hand and shaking yours?
William Vaquerano/... she did bro, I almost threw up on both of you guys. F*CK!
Dr. Morgan... That is ALMOST an act of terrorism. Did you go rinse up or do you have Lysol wipes at your desk? Oh, and how are you feeling?
Dr. Morgan...(30 seconds later) ANSWER ME!
William Vaquerano/... fine, but that shit was f*cked up.
Dr. Morgan...You're terminal.
William Vaquerano/...I'm fine dude.
Dr. Morgan...That's denial.
William Vaquerano/...I'm fine, and I gotta get to work dude.
Dr. Morgan...Okay. I will keep an eye on you periodically throughout the day, and I may check up on your glands and maybe take a throat culture.
William Vaquerano/...Leave me alone dude, I'm good.
Dr. Morgan...You'll thank me. I gotta sign off, I don't want your energy being sapped from unnecessary typing. Let me know if you get any symptoms.
Dr. Morgan...(1 minute later) At least reply with something so I know that you got my last IM, which may be the most important in case you start feeling hot flashes, etc.
William Vaquerano/...okay
Dr. Morgan..."okay" you got my last IM, or "okay", you are now just beginning to feel symptoms?
Dr. Morgan...Will? Will....This isn't funny.
Dr. Morgan...I'm coming over.
I walked over to Will's desk which is 10 feet to the right of my desk. After a brief visual inspection, it 'appears' that things are normal, as Will is reading ESPN.com and is letting phone calls go immediately into voicemail. I'm going to watch his eating habits throughout the day and see which course the virus decides to take. My guess? Tomorrow, sore throat, runny nose, and a slight cough. (Digital recorder message to self: "No contact whatsoever with Will today or tomorrow. Also, stay clear of the virus spreader, Erin. Breast visuals are not off limits.")
Doctor's Note: Will is in sales, so he already has the sales virus.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Angry Water
I was playing Texas Hold 'Em with a colleague of mine, Dr. Trainor. Instead of playing for money, we decided the loser of each game would be forced to do a shot of cranberry vodka. It was 2pm on Sunday.
His 2 year old son, Daniel, watched us while eating raisins. Even though it was a laid back game, Daniel's insistence on f*cking with the poker chips was making me livid. Then Daniel pointed at the shot glass and says "dat's water.....dat's water....dat's water" over and over again. He wouldn't stop even though Dr. Trainor and I were nodding him to death. I finally said "That's not just any water, Danny. That's angry water." He then began screaming while smiling "ANGRY WATER! ANGRY WATER!" Kids are natures way of saying "It's possible to be annoyed every 3 seconds."
Dr. Trainor told me the next day that he doesn't mind the constant "ANGRY WATER!" lately. Just last week, standing in front of church, the boy looked up at the giant clock face on the steeple and began shouting "Big clock! Big clock!", but it was coming out "Big cock! Big cock!" and had to be subdued.
His 2 year old son, Daniel, watched us while eating raisins. Even though it was a laid back game, Daniel's insistence on f*cking with the poker chips was making me livid. Then Daniel pointed at the shot glass and says "dat's water.....dat's water....dat's water" over and over again. He wouldn't stop even though Dr. Trainor and I were nodding him to death. I finally said "That's not just any water, Danny. That's angry water." He then began screaming while smiling "ANGRY WATER! ANGRY WATER!" Kids are natures way of saying "It's possible to be annoyed every 3 seconds."
Dr. Trainor told me the next day that he doesn't mind the constant "ANGRY WATER!" lately. Just last week, standing in front of church, the boy looked up at the giant clock face on the steeple and began shouting "Big clock! Big clock!", but it was coming out "Big cock! Big cock!" and had to be subdued.
Sanitation: 4 out of 5 people "not trying it"
I work in an office building. It's actually only two stories high so it's more like a two-story house filled with offices. It's an office house. Even though it's only two stories, there's an elevator. They had to install it in case a handicap person is ever hired here, but they could have saved money by just turning "those people" away. A lot of fat people disguising themselves as handicapped will use the elevator. Sometimes I'll race to the second floor so when they get out, they think they've just seen my twin brother downstairs.
I've witnessed, in the past 3 hours, two of the most unsanitary displays of germ contact in my entire life. I was introducing a temp, hired solely based on breast display, to another employee, and after saying "Erin, this is Will. Will, Erin.", she coughed on her hand and then extended it and shook Will's hand. I don't know if Will has Lysol wipes at his desk, or, if he went to rinse up, but we already have germs all over our hands, prior to having another blast of mucus spray on them. I was going to send Will and instant message saying "Did you wash your hands after that c*nt shook your hand with phlegm?" but I am just going to wait and observe his health over the next couple of days.
Now, listen up, because this is where the soup turns into a stew. I was using the bathroom, and some guy left a stall after evacuating and didn't wash his hands. This is unfathomable and not how humans should behave. The germs in our feke would cripple a nation of smaller beings, like ants, or smurfs. I should not have to grab a door handle and wonder if the person that left before me may or may not be a good wiper. Luckily for me, the door is slightly ajar at all times. After I rinse, I have to use my fingertips about 2 feet over the handle and pry the door open like Indiana Jones opening a concrete tomb. Another guy I work with was following me out and here's the conversation we had:
Him: "Why are you opening the door like that?"
Me: "Because some scumbag didn't wash his hands, and if you think I'm touching that sh*thandle, you're wrong."
As a Doctor with no formal medical training, I feel it's my duty to make everyone aware of the dangers of germ exchange. I will post an update on Will's health on Wednesday.
I've witnessed, in the past 3 hours, two of the most unsanitary displays of germ contact in my entire life. I was introducing a temp, hired solely based on breast display, to another employee, and after saying "Erin, this is Will. Will, Erin.", she coughed on her hand and then extended it and shook Will's hand. I don't know if Will has Lysol wipes at his desk, or, if he went to rinse up, but we already have germs all over our hands, prior to having another blast of mucus spray on them. I was going to send Will and instant message saying "Did you wash your hands after that c*nt shook your hand with phlegm?" but I am just going to wait and observe his health over the next couple of days.
Now, listen up, because this is where the soup turns into a stew. I was using the bathroom, and some guy left a stall after evacuating and didn't wash his hands. This is unfathomable and not how humans should behave. The germs in our feke would cripple a nation of smaller beings, like ants, or smurfs. I should not have to grab a door handle and wonder if the person that left before me may or may not be a good wiper. Luckily for me, the door is slightly ajar at all times. After I rinse, I have to use my fingertips about 2 feet over the handle and pry the door open like Indiana Jones opening a concrete tomb. Another guy I work with was following me out and here's the conversation we had:
Him: "Why are you opening the door like that?"
Me: "Because some scumbag didn't wash his hands, and if you think I'm touching that sh*thandle, you're wrong."
As a Doctor with no formal medical training, I feel it's my duty to make everyone aware of the dangers of germ exchange. I will post an update on Will's health on Wednesday.
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