"But My Fame Does Not Rest on That Alone"

I don't know many of the life stories of the members who live at the Cedars. I know that many of them are retired doctors, lawyers, professors, a few entertainers sprinkled in. But I do know one thing: they are big deals. Sometimes you walk by and you catch little shavings of the stories they tell from when they were still practicing whatevers, and when you walk back to the kitchen and tell another server and share a moment of awe. Once in a while, it's hard to believe they give college grads struggling to make good or high school kids trying earn a dollar or whoever works there the time of day. It's wild.
One thing I'm very thankful for is that there are a lot of people who work at the Cedars who I grew up with, and get to share this experience with. Someone I know from Wilkesboro got me the job and I, in turn, have helped others from our small town get jobs there too. At one point or another, there have probably been 10 people on the payroll of the Cedars. So when one of the staff says "I'm from Wilkesboro," there's a really good shot that staff member not only knows but knows really well the other staffers from Wilkes.

It means the world to be able to share this experience with some of your best friends. Case in point, last night, as I sometimes tend to do if we have a slow minute in the bar, I ventured out into the casual dining room. It was slow out there too. One of the member's guests happened to have been the professor I had for feature writing in the J-school at Carolina. I love it when she visits because whenever she comes we have really good conversations. And also you get to see an very long, rich friendship between the member and my professor still alive and growing deeper. So I'm halfway into this conversation with my professor and the member. The member is in the market for a new car (I recommend a Toyota- yeah I know they're in hot water but does brand loyalty mean nothing today?). And my professor is telling me about internships that her current students and the guests speakers she gets in for her students to interview and profile this semester. And here again, this woman has clout. A Pulitzer Prize nominated journalist herself, she gets the best for her students.

So halfway through my conversation i look up and see my friend Michael talking to another table. Not only is Michael from Wilkesboro, but he's also a roommate of mine. Michael drives to and from Greensboro three days a week to go class. He's studying to get into med school. One of the members he was talking to is a very respected doctor. Apparently, Michael was asking a bunch of questions about what the member specifically used to and the member obliged and told him all this stuff. Eventually he tells Michael that he basically invented some famous technique, one of the first to employ such a technique still widely used today. That would have been enough to impress anyone but then he looks up at Michael and says "but my fame does not rest on that alone."

Like I said, it's a wonder they give us the time of day.

You Get Along Better When You See Somebody

I listened to one of the two women at table 8 try to recite the alphabet. She got it right this time.
It was her third attempt.
She comes in every single day and every day she has a more difficult time than the day before. One evening, while she prepared to eat her dinner in her usual spot she began to squeeze a wedge of lemon above her fish, she stopped mid squeeze.
"What was I putting this on?" She asked.
The girl I work with and I told her she was putting it on her trout. She shook her head and laughed.
Today she had walked over to the clubhouse with a lady who lives in her building she used to eat with frequently. I put the coffee on the burners and made sure the cooler was stocked with wine for the dinner shift and sort of half-listened to their conversation. Shortly after the one had vanquished the alphabet, they began to talk about their ailments, as old people frequently do.
"Well there's a difference between just sort of feeling bad all the time and being in pain all the time."
"I know it, but I feel bad and I'm in pain all the time," responded the other.
"Well, yeah, but sometimes you get along better when you see somebody," said the first.
I was floored. But I shouldn't have been surprised.
One of the things I admire most about these members is the sense of community they have. They experience everything together. When times are good, they are there for one another. When things are bad, they are there for one another. And when times are at the lowest of low and they experience pain or loss, there are always people there to let them know they have someone if they need them. And when this lady, who can hardly even say her ABCs, told her friend "you get along better when you see somebody," she was letting her know she was there for her if she needed.
And her friend nodded and said "I know it. We should do this more." and then she promptly followed it with, "is my lipstick smeared?"
Life is lived better when you're with other people.
And yes. Her lipstick was smeared.

28 March 2010.

I think yesterday I posted the wrong date. Which brings me to my first point kids: proofreading. So this time it's the real March 28th, 2010. Also, I've been posting the date in the international format? I didn't work today. I've been scared of tornadoes since I was a kid. I can remember being in 1st grade and watching the Wizard of Oz and having to hide my face when the part came on when the tornado came. As a matter of fact, I was scared of thunderstorms until I was a teenager. Whenever there was a thunderstorm I would announce to the family that I had become drowsy. That way, nobody would think I was a coward. In reality, I would hide entirely under the covers of my bed and try to go to sleep until when I woke up hopefully the storm was over. I'm pretty sure they bought it every time. I actually like thunderstorms now. Tornadoes, though, are a different story. There's a tornado warning effective in Orange County (where Chapel Hill is). Not only does that mean that I've got weather.com always open in one tab. But it also means I can't concentrate right now. When I'm not shaking in my boots and I feel like doing this next Sunday, I think I'm going to jot down a list of good songs throughout the week. Because what am I going to blog about on Sundays anyway? One of the songs will always be Roman Candle. If you haven't heard them. Stop. Open up a new tab. Go to www.romancandlemusic.com. Have your mind blown. Seriously, click that link. Also, I just looked at the date from my last post. I got it right. But I'm not going back to erase anything on this post.

Happy Hour

Sixty-five degrees and sunny today when I was walking down from the employee parking lot to the clubhouse today. There was a nice breeze and the black pines (I think they're black pines) were swaying like soccer moms at an OAR concert. That is my least favorite band on the face of the planet."Excuses" by the Morning Benders, on the other hand, has been my song of the week. Something about the way it starts out with the strings and strumming acoustic that really makes a day like this feel more like Spring.
One reason I like the calm before the storm before we start serving lunch at 11:30 is because some of the best conversations come during this time when we technically aren't even supposed to talk to members. That sounds cruel, but it's sort of well grounded. The problem is, if you talk to somebody before we open for business at 11:30, someone will want something. Weird, huh?
The same man comes in every morning to have his cup of decaf with the New York Times. It's worth it alone to even get to be in the same room with the guy while he reads the Times. Every page contains some article or columnist to send him into fits. It's like they aren't even trying to stay objective anymore. Yesterday I had been talking to this man about how many resumes I had sent out. "No offense, but I can't stand doing this anymore."
"Oh, no, I know you don't want to do this forever. And you won't."
They always know what to say to help build you up.
Today when I walked in he sat down just as I was bringing in the fresh pot of decaf. We small talked about the NCAA basketball games the previous night and then he says," OH! I was thinking you know what a person like you should do? I mean the perfect thing to do?"
"Shoot," I said.
"You need to start a blog."
These guys are good.

I have to tell you this story from earlier tonight. One of my favorite happy hour regulars tonight came in wearing his roll-up optometrists shades underneath his glasses. It was incredible. But that isn't the story. About halfway through his third double gin on the rocks he gave the staff his recipe for the coffee vodka that he's been working on perfecting.
1. Go to the liquor store and get a liter and a half of the cheapest vodka they sell.
2. Drop in nine (9) coffee beans. We were informed that it takes about 2 days for the beans to sink to the bottom of the bottle.
3. Wait four and a half days and the vodka should be a nice amber color.
4. After the 4.5 day waiting period the vodka will be ready to drink.

"Now, Kent, I don't really know what I'm doing," he said. "But it's pretty damn good, Kent. It's pretty damn good."

Moving Forward

Had the day off yesterday. In keeping with the whole, no talking about the members on my day off, I'm going to stick with that. And although today it was back to double shifts and lattes and soups-to-go and all that other stuff I'm not talking about them today. But I digress. I worked last Sunday, something I don't normally do. Probably one of the worst days on the job I've ever had. Without going into all of that it really sort of motivated me to get out of the Cedars. The church I went to in Colorado, Flatrions Community Church, is the most incredible church I've ever been to. Weird. I grew up in a town with a church seemingly on every corner and then I move out to Boulder, not necessarily known for being a Christian spiritual mecca, and get totally blown out of the water. So one day (and I'm sure they talked about this in multiple sermons) I'm listening to the pastor preach a sermon about how "living by faith" often times gets confused with a life of just waiting, or just expecting things to fall into your lap by saying "God will provide and if I believe in Him everything will get taken care of." How many times do we sit and wait for things to just happen and then get angry at God because "he isn't keeping "His end of the bargain" up? Job, relationship, finances, all that. Really, a life of faith is a life of action. It's not just believing, it's doing. Because we are what we do. It's been really easy for me to blame my current job situation on this recession. I'll just wait until things turn around and then the job market will open up. I mean that sort of makes sense but it's a cop out. Meanwhile, people who are busting butt to get their job are getting hired. So yesterday I joined those ranks. I spent all day sending upwards of 25 resumes out., something I should have been doing for the past couple of months. Maybe nothing will come out of it. But if I hadn't sent the resumes out I definitely gotten any jobs. The past few shifts at work have left me feeling energized. For the first time in a long time I feel like my days at the Cedars are numbered.

First Day

I remember my first day at the Cedars. November 4th, 2005. I had never waited tables before so I was a little anxious. Working with the elderly was not going to be a problem. Not only did I love my grandparents but I had also volunteered at the local senior center in Boone, NC, my first year of college. When people say they're afraid of old people I don't understand that. They have their quirks and they're slow; it's a pain to get stuck behind them, anywhere really. But they're still people, they're just living life at a different pace. That's what I thought anyway. I think really when people say they're "afraid of old people," what they mean is that they themselves are afraid of getting old. It isn't really a fun topic to think about.
A friend of mine had gotten me the interview and after a month long game of phone tag, a drug test, orientation, paperwork, etc., it was finally time to start. Waiting tables would not have been my first choice, at least not at a TGI Fridays or Outback or something. A friend of mine told me I might like this though. You didn't need experience waiting tables (crucial), and the clientele was, unorthodox. More importantly, it paid, I needed to help my parents needed me to help with some of my bills, and it beat anything else available to an undergrad. At 4 pm on November 4th I donned my issued Cedars Blueshirt, put on a still-creased apron, and clocked on. The timeclock answered with a single, staccato "beep." My life would never be the same again.

21 March 2010- Private Party

I usually don't work on Sundays. I've found that if I don't have at least one day off each weekend it makes the regular week seem like double length. I like to take Sundays off because it gives me no excuse to not go to church. I usually find something though and I don't go as often as I should. After a long while working at the Cedars when the members feel like they get to know you really well they will ask you to work at a private party at their home (apartment or cottage). I used to love doing this. For one thing all of their homes are immaculate. I mean these things should be in magazines. It was also interesting to just see them in a place outside of the clubhouse. Most of the time the guests at private parties are just other members, sometimes a few outsiders so I didn't feel totally awkward like some monkey butler. Recently though, these private parties have become a drag too.
Members always seem to catch you right when the fine dining director is next to you. This is key because getting permission to have an employee work outside the clubhouse has to go through him. Well, if somebody asks him when he's next to me, all he has to do is look over and be like, "well can you?"
I'm screwed. I can't stand being put on the spot like that. Sure, I could always say no. But I'm gutless in these situations and extra money can always help. So lately these damn private parties have really been a drag. I'm supposed to perform work outside the clubhouse exactly the same as in the clubhouse. SERVING. However the last few times I've done one of these, I end up doing all sorts of things so far out of my job description, sometimes even I don't know what my job title is when I leave. For instance, I've been sent out to get ice, I've helped people in and out of chairs so they can maneuver their walker (in which case I'm held liable if something goes wrong), cooked, done dishes, taken shoes ON and OFF for people. The problem is I can't say no in these situations. Literally, I'm told not to say no because "whatever the member wants" is the Cedars stance (unless it's illegal or something). Today was no different. I had been dreading this one for two main reasons. One: I'm working on a Sunday, and Two: Every time I walked down to the clubhouse from my car I saw this guy who was there reminding me that I was working.
"This is going to be your post Sunday."
or "I'm counting on you."
I'm not even clocked in yet and I'm already thinking about what's going to be doing six days from now. And as usual, the bullcrap starts immediately. Rather than list the events I'm going try to compose my thoughts in a letter to the Cedars brass I think I'm going to propose to someone for future reference. Here we go.

To Whom It May Concern,
I worked a private party today. As usual, it was totally ridiculous. I wasn't greeted with a hello or a nice to see you. Instead, before I stepped onto the property was asked "How are your muscles?"
The member had four potted plants ranging from large to very large and roughly 25 to 50 lbs. Not only was I asked to arrange these pots on a ledge, but BALANCE AND TIP TOE AROUND MULCH IN WHICH EVERY SQUARE INCH IS COVERED WITH PLANTS and warned "Don't stop on my flowers." My muscles are fine but my back has really been bothering me this week. But I can't tell the member I cannot tell the member I can't lift those pots because I'm here to work for them. Food and beverage service went along swimmingly (except for the fact I was, at one point, literally asked to be in two places at one time). After supper was served it got ridiculous though. Instead of being told to help clean up like normal, I was told to gather the folding chairs and tables and take them to the homes of the neighbors from which they were borrowed...in the rain. THEN I was asked to stay behind past the time I was scheduled to work to help them clean.
It is my responsibility to represent the Cedars well and serve the members to the best of my ability to that end within the confines of my job. I never have, nor never will I not go above and beyond my job description. However, this is getting ridiculous. Please, don't ever blindly throw me into a situation like this again. Ask the member what they will have me do and if there's something else they need help with (i.e. moving furniture, lifting heavy objects, and playing Lowe's delivery boy) to have that arranged with them through another department. You've done a lot for me Cedars, and I thank you for that, but this is becoming a problem that needs to be addressed.
Sincerely,

W Kent Bennett

20 March 2010

Day off today. No members taking 5 minutes to order dinner or re-ask what the special are three times in a row. I love not having to be anywhere in the vicinity of the Cedars. Hopefully, within the coming weeks, a day off won't be in my vocabulary. You know, because people with actual careers don't get days off unless it's a national holiday or something. As much as I like not being obligated to work, this whole notion of not doing anything all day gets me down. Having a day off because I'm not on the schedule, or because I've requested to be off is weird. I'm looking for something now where I'm off holidays and weekends just like every other red blooded American. I'd like to make it a policy that on a day off I don't talk about the members or the Cedars. That's what I'm going to do. A day off for me from members is a day off for the blog from members. I don't know what I'll talk about. But it won't be them.
Also, I'm pretty sure I should have been diagnosed with ADD as a kid; and if not I've definitely developed it as an adult. As a result, I want to post something everyday, but I know that won't happen. So for those of you check this blog like 4 times a day waiting for a new post, chillax.

First

I have no idea how to start this. But if I don't do it now I probably never will. About a year after I started working at the Cedars was when I first started thinking about trying to write stories down about the kind of stuff that goes down out there. If I thought this was going to be worth a crap I probably would have started a looott sooner. Soon after I started working at the Cedars it was fun to tell people how I earned a paycheck; just like it used to be fun to work there. There's that arbitrary small talk-I'm going to put feelers out- to see if you're really worth my time- dance. Telling people you're a bartender at a retirement community is solid gold. People always laughed and most of the time wanted to know all about it. And I used to love telling them about it. I was 20 then. That was 5 years ago. I was working on a degree (I saw a way out of here) and these old people cold do no wrong in my eyes. I loved working at the Cedars.
It's different now. I graduated; but this is still my full time job and there is no end in sight. Ultimately, I still love the Cedars and the people who live there. But when all I see the same people in the same places doing the same thing every day, it makes me want to break out more and more. "The Old People," henceforth to be known as "members" are very good about reminding me how young I am and to be patient. And I'm grateful for that. I mean, they know that most of the waitstaff doesn't want to be working there for very long (as long as I have). Yes, there are some members that grate on my last nerve, but for the most part I love 'em all. It's like a big family out there. It sounds cheesy. And it is. But it's true. There are at least one or two times a day I get the warm fuzzies from something one of them says or does.
But I'm desperate for a new opportunity. I have learned a lot just by talking and listening to the members. Now when you're 25 and somebody asks what you do and you tell them you're a bartender at a retirement community you get a different type of laugh. There's no future in this. The other day when someone asked me if I liked working at the Cedars I said something other than "It's awesome," for the first time. "I used to," I heard myself say. And it's true. This is getting old. See what I did there?

First post. Boom.