I am so intense.

As you well know, dear reader, I work at a new restaurant. Our owner planned what we call a 'soft opening'. The idea is that you take your time letting your people adjust to a new place, new menu and new coworkers. It has been an interesting move so far and probably a good thing Tom took his time.

If it is easy to lie on a resume in another walk of life, it probably pales in comparison to what you can do in a restaurant. One of our original 'bartenders' asked a manager the second week if a drink that is ordered 'on the rocks' always gets ice. Yikes. I could just imagine waiting on a table full of drinks from her with a full section on a Friday night. Another guy, a fellow server, was so out of place that he would need help clearing off a two-top. Just to let you know, any server should be able to clear a two-top in their sleep.

Anyhow, the staff we have now is really coming together. The soft opening also looks like its coming to an end. The other day we were reviewed in the Birmingham News. I sat down to read the article and the review began to look eerily familiar. I began to recognize these fine patrons when they related an unfortunate instance they had encountered while sitting at my table. There was *gasp* somebody smoking a cigarette down on the street who so offended them that they threatened to pour water down from the terrace onto the evil tobacco imbiber's weapon of mass-destruction.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm pretty sure this block was a bit too expensive for us to buy up the whole thing and outlaw smoking on
the premises."

Beside the regrettable proximity to the Marlbro Man, the reviewers were positive about their experience. They even went so far as to compliment my service, which also made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They said that I was knowledgeable and they recounted the episode of my refunding their undercooked, albeit 3/4 eaten creme brule. They did use one word that surprised me a bit. They used the word 'intense'.

The more I thought about it, they were probably right about that. There is not much I do that is half-hearted. I suppose I am a bit intense. It was how I was brought up. My brothers are intense. My mom and dad are intense. The more I thought about it, the happier I have been with this description. I am glad they have the impression that I take what I do seriously. I know it may not be curing cancer but I think if you were paying all that money for a meal that you will digest in under 24 hours, the least I could do is to know what I am talking about and give you confidence that your experience is important to me.

For better or worse, this is what I do at this point of my life. It may not seem important to you but this is the place God has me right now. It is also how I pay the bills. If I seem a bit overly committed to the overall cause, then so be it. You fight the battle against Phillip Morris and I'll wait tables, just don't be surprised if I seem to care about my job. It runs in the family.