The Comfy Corner

It has been a mere six months since I walked away from my last restaurant job, the dark sleet of New York's skies washing over my tired skin, as I let the sweet burden of horrible-job-syndrome lift off my aching back, celebrating the freedom of just having quit a survival job that was sucking away the soul of my being. Now, I celebrate a return to the restaurant business in an environment that does the opposite of suck soul. It injects soul. Feeds my soul. It is called, "The Far Dog."

This tiny restaurant is situated on the main street of Creede, CO and is celebrating its 17 day anniversary. And I am fortunate enough to have been there from the first cup of fresh brewed Lavazza coffee set in front of a customer. You may be thinking, "Far Dog? What kind of a name is that for a restaurant?" Well, the restaurant is named after the owners' dog, Farley. That's right folks, it is named after a puppy. It's a tiny, comfy restaurant, in a tiny, comfy town, named after the cutest puppy that lazes at the front door greeting customers and happily accepting food donations. In other words, it is my comfy corner in Creede. It's the first time I've worked at a restaurant that I actually want to eat at and spend time at outside of work. When I'm not working there, I'm drinking there, or meeting friends there. It is an amazing place filled with amazing food and amazing people.

And the clientele is incredible. The people of Creede are a patient people. A kind, generous people. A people that tips people in fair quantities. A people that is not of the foreign/European/non-tipping variety of people. And it has been wonderful! However, just the other day as I floated about the Far Dog lost in my dream of a waiting job, one customer quickly yanked me out of my cloud and slammed me back to the harsh reality that there are assholes everywhere you go. He was apparently an extra in one of the "Twilight" films which gave him some sort of higher rank among the other piddly little human beings of the world. He is the type of person that would see me in one of them-there theatre shows and say something demeaning like, "You should maybe consider pursuing this as a profession..." As if that isn't what I'm already doing. As if I was just dabbling in the field for a short time. Well, this gentleman was eating breakfast at the restaurant and asked for a piece of toast. And, for some reason, toast is not the quickest thing in the world to make at our restaurant because it has to be made on the grill. So after about three minutes of toast waiting (it was being plated and sent out after three minutes) he stops me and says, "Forget the toast! It's too late now! What am I supposed to do with toast now?!" I smiled at him and said, "Okay!" and then proceeded to feel that sinking feeling in my heart. That familiar feeling of inadequacy and failure. And I started my internal monologue, "I could tell you a thing or two you could do with the toast... SO sorry sir that toast in Creede takes a minute longer that LA toast. I bow at your feet in toast serfdom."

And that is why I've decided that I'm not a good waiter. Yeah, I do the job well, I'm personable and good with customers, but I'm also too emotionally involved. My heart hurts because a piece of toast didn't make it to the table. In order to be a good waiter you have to have a heart of steel. You have to be able to stand up for yourself and not let people demean you or put you down. That's the only way to get respect in the restaurant business. And I don't think I quite have that yet. But, in any event, the one asshole toast experience aside, I am thrilled to be working in a restaurant that is letting me keep my soul. It's a great feeling. Stay comfy y'all.