Back in Black

The title of course refers to the hugely popular AC/DC song of the same title, made even more famous by the first Iron Man film. It also refers to me getting back into uniform - black shoes, black apron, black trousers and black shirt. That can only mean one thing: waiting and boy is it hard work.

Not to say I'm not capable of doing hard work but I don't exactly have bundles of waiting experience. Bar work, yes but it's a somewhat different ball game. With bar work, it is generally accepted you have a station - behind the bar, mixing, pouring and serving with waiting there is a lot more running around, often covering multiple areas within the restaurant. You might have to prepare the drinks then carry a tray stockpiled with said drinks and run them down to a customer without spilling them. It's a job many of us will have done by the end of our lifetimes and it is a job that most of us should at least try. In a waiting job, simple fetching and carry jobs become a lot more complicated than they seem. Not only will you have to learn to balance multiple hot plates at once but you'll have to do it with the accepted etiquette. Meanwhile, every one who works there and eats there will have another request from you. This is especially during the Christmas months where every big company decides it wants to have its work do in your restaurant. You can barely move without somebody demanding a pepper shaker and of course you have to be the little lapdog that fetches said condiment that does the task with a big smile and a curtsey. I think it goes without saying that I'd take working in a busy bar over a busy restaurant any day of the week. When you are behind a bar, serving drinks to people wanting to get pissed you almost act as an authority figure. If people act like dicks, you have the right not to serve them, deciding they are too drunk to receive their beverage. If someone is a snob in a rest you just have to take it on the chin and be their little bitch. It's a fairly humbling experience and I recommend taking the job on to anyone who thinks they are too big for their boots. There's no time for cocky swaggers in a waiter's world.

That's not to say I'm unhappy to be doing the job. I might not enjoy it that much but I was lucky to have been given the role as quick as I was. I'd been back in Belfast for just under a week when I stopped in Deane's in the off chance they would have something. Truth be told I didn't expect them to have anything, never mind have a trial shift for me the very next day. I got through the hour long trial shift ok and was told I could come in for more shifts albeit on a temporary basis that can be cancelled any time within the first three months and within a week I was told I needed to improve fast or I would find myself looking for a new job. That kind of depressed me for an entire evening. They had found me to be inexperienced, clumsy and essentially.. dozy. Not that I can really argue with any of these descriptions. My experience with waiting was largely limited to working the odd functions through the TA, rowing clubs and part time hours in the Europa (both the most bombed hotel in Belfast *BOOM*) that had me serving coffee to hotel guests and resetting tables for breakfast. My lanky limbs make me unabashedly clumsy and as for dozy - I would say alertness in a waiting job comes with experience. The ability to keep track of multiple things in one environment is a lot easier when you know what things you need to keep track of. Lets not make too many excuses though - sometimes you're just crap at a job and you have to give it time before you see any signs of improvement. If I do end up with more shifts this week in Deane's then I will get to see for myself if I have improved any. Fingers crossed.

That back in black part doesn't refer solely to being back in uniform though, it also refers to being back in the 'fast lane. I'm back home again and it's proving to have its ups and downs. About a year ago I would have told you that part of the reason that I like travelling so much is that when I come back home I appreciate it that much more. I can't say that this argument is holding true as much. Sure, I get a nice warm bed, clean clothes, nice food and a few good groups of friends around me. It comes at a little bit of a price though. I need that warm bed to hide from the bitter cold. If I'm working late then I miss out on the festivities that said friends are having and as for the food - I love my mum's cooking but I still feel like I'm missing the opportunity of rocking up to El Pollo Rico on Sant Pau for a big bowl of hangover-killing Estofado. At least I can get boojums again though. To me, Belfast's strength is also it's weakness. It might be a helluva lot safer than it used to be. It might even be one of the safest large-ish cities in the UK but consistent is synonymous with mundane. There isn't too much that excites me here any more. Even the Christmas/Continental market has lost its magic - it pops up so regularly that I'll be rather unfazed when its gone. Maybe the novelty of washing my bison burger down with a stein of German lager has slowly dissipated with me because I've traveled or it has faded into the fabric of our city.

For me my life in Barcelona has given me a taste for madness. My goals now are to acquire as much money as possible to see Asia later on in a few months time and get back to Barcelona for the Summer. We'll see how that plan assembles itself though.

What about Dr. Rancho I hear you ask? Well he followed me back from Barcelona but I haven't heard too much about him in recent weeks. He told me some crazy story about his promotional job during the last week of Barcelona. His work had stationed him outside one of his favourite pizza joints in the Gothic quarter when a rather drunken crack-head looking motherfucker with a trail of Christmas tree fairy lights protruding from one of his jacket pockets had been thrown to the ground by one of his friends that works in the pizza place after the crackhead had threatened the pizza guy. Apparently the drunkard had lay in a sleepy heap in the street for about ten minutes before he roused, poked his head up and produced a plastic flute from the inside pocket of his jacket and blew into it. After a little bit more blowing the crackhead began swearing and cursing at the pizza guy and took to his feet. At this moment in time, two women with bodys from Baywatch but faces from Crimewatch attempted to catch a cab from the street whilst a bunch of the Pakistani beer sellers wolf-whistled at them. The crackhead stuck his flute in the grill of the cab's bonnet and held up traffic for a few minutes. Dr Rancho perhaps unwisely chose to push the drunken dreadlocked fool out of the way - meaning solely to speed things up a little. Instead of a gentle push the shove had the black guy sprawl to the ground once again, just as two officers of the Guardia Urbana came around the corner. Dr Rancho explained his actions to the police but they didn't seem to mind so much, explaining that this guy was a fairly constant nuisance in the area and they weren't going to do much about his misdemeanour. Imagine Dr Rancho actually getting along with the Spanish police force for once. Miracles will never cease. Unfortunately though every Moroccan thief/drug dealer in the area decided they were going to lecture him about how to behave whilst working a corner and how he shouldn't have done that. Rancho's response was something like "It is my business how I behave here and if you don't want to end up in a heap on the ground like that guy I suggest you stay out of it." Rancho, if you are reading this, threatening known pushers might not be the best way to live life.

Apart from the odd dubstep night in a club here called the Stiff Kitten where he in his own words "chomped down MDMA like it was popcorn", it sounds like Rancho has been lying low since coming to Belfast. Sounds like a wise move doctor.

Well that's that for this post. I'd say expect a top 5 ways of not being a complete dick customer to your waiter but I know I don't like to give false promises. I might have the best intentions of writing a follow up post but it might be another month or two before I take the opportunity to write a blog entry.

Stay safe.

Conor