restaurant etiquette and maturing

I have stolen Sarah's computer, so this entry may have to end abruptly when she gets back. My own computer has been being "fixed" by Best Buy for about 2 months now. They've basically screwed up and treated us poorly for the entire summer, so my parents are preparing to rain down hell-fire on them, write nasty letters to corporate offices, etc. I'm not too concerned, considering I know better than anyone what it's like to piss my dad off. I'm just worried about getting my computer back in time to prepare it for Deutschland, which includes uploading 400+ CDs. I'm cursed when it comes to electronics. At this point my car and cell phone are also broken, but that doesn't worry me so much. I get to fly far, far away from them soon enough.

I have today off of work and am struggling to find something productive to do with my time. This summer I have been living in Ann Arbor serving at The Original Cottage Inn, working 35 hours a week or so. It's a nice mid-level restaurant. Not too fancy, but not too cheap. Just right, I'd say. And now I sound like I'm telling a children's fairy tale. Anyway, you can show up in jeans and order a couple pitchers of beer, or you can head there for a hot date and get the NY Strip and get a few cocktails. I really love working there, mostly because of the people I work with. It's good money, the time goes by quickly, and we always seem to have fun. When you mix overly-flirtatious Mexican cooks with beer-drenched college students and add in a crazy Greek boss, the outcome has to be fun. (I have no idea if I'm using those hyphens correctly. You get the point)
I've found that serving, aside from being good money, teaches you a lot about people, and how to keep your cool when you feel like you're about to die. I, after having won my high school's mock election for Most Dramatic, have come to terms with my drama queen-ness. When I started serving, everyone was sure someone would get some food in the face when I got angry. No no, my friends, it has worked out well, and maybe I've simmered down some thanks to my summers slaving over people. Sure, people piss you off a lot, but I feel like the majority are empathetic to servers. Anyone I've ever known who has worked in a restaurant is a wonderful tipper, because they can read into the signs. "Oh gee look at her running around like a crazy person. I'll understand if my lasagna takes a little longer than necessary." And now, for any of you that care to listen to my ranting...

THINGS NOT TO DO IN A RESTAURANT
1) Ask for waters for the whole table, when you're the only one who will be drinking water. Especially if it's a big table. It makes the tray twice as heavy, and doubles the chance that she will drop one of those unnecessary waters in your lap. So, it's your choice if you wanna look like you pissed yourself. You probably deserve it.
2) Ask your runners to get you things. Runners are the people who AREN'T your server who bring out your food. They are paid to run the food out, run back to the kitchen, repeat. They are NOT being paid to get you refills, or get you extra ketchup, or get you a new Ferrari. (Some guy asked me that the other day) If your server is any good at their job, you shouldn't have to ask and they should be at your table to check on you within minutes of you getting your food. Let the runner get back to the kitchen and get a chance to run out everyone's food. That's why they're getting paid.
3)Sit around for hours before you decide to look at the bill. We refer to these people as squatters or say that they're camping, and they are super obnoxious. If the restaurant isn't busy, there's a good chance your poor waitress can't go home until you decide to pay that bill. There are hundreds of other places you can go to blab with your friends.
4)Blame your server if you realize it is something out of her control. Don't punish them because you don't like how something tastes, where you're sitting, the weather, your mother-in-law...anything that they can't do anything about. If it takes hours to get a refill or the bill, then yes, that is their problem. But please be aware of what is expected of them. A restaurant is all about team work and sometimes certain parts of that chain are lacking. Just let her know and she can run back in the kitchen and chase someone around with a soup ladle if need be.
5) Tip well. It won't kill you to throw in a few extra dollars.

Ok those are just a few I came up with off the top of my head. Leaving CI is going to make me sad, but hopefully I can get a good job in Freiburg. Considering all the traveling I plan on doing, I'll need to be bringing in some good money. Oy.
My fingers are stained a deep red because I ate about a billion cherries last night. My boyfriend, Craig, threw some at me and I finished off the bag. Healthy and delicious. I just kept going. Now I look like I killed someone with my fingertips.

Sunday night my step-dad, whom I haven't seen in a year and a half, took me out to Olive Garden. After having been a major person in my life for a very long time, he and my mother got divorced the spring of my freshman year at U of M. I hadn't seen him since because I've been far too self-absorbed and busy to really make it work, but I guess moving to Germany opened up my eyes a bit. And maturing, which I have been doing a bit off this summer.
It was wonderful seeing him, and I can rest a bit easier knowing he's doing well. I know the divorce was hard on both of them, but I've been able to watch my mother move on. I haven't been able to see how he's been doing. Also, compliments from him about how I've grown and what I've accomplished really mean a lot. He's watched me grow up, and I hope he knows that he can take some credit for the person I've become. Now I can feel a little better about running off to Europe.
Enough of this Internet schtuff. I accidentally dropped $100 at Borders on Monday night. (Accidentally, Daddy. I promise.) I have a beautiful stack of new books to dive into. Love in the Time of Cholera or Invisible Cities?
Mmm.